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Books for Sunday-School Libraries. 

BY 

ANNETTE L. NOBLE. 


THE QUEER HOME IN RUGBY COURT. l2mo, 450 
pages, $1.50 

HOW BILLY WENT UP IN THE WORLD. I2mo, 396 
pages, $1.25 

MISS JANET’S OLD HOUSE. l2mo, 428 pages, - $1.25 




* 



Ai THERE, THAT IS FANNY! 1 ’ 


Page 269 





MISS JANET’S 




Old House. 



ANNETTE LUCILLE tfOBLE. 


v .UTHOP OF "HOW 16ILLY WENT UP TN THE WORLD,” “THE QUEER HOME AT 

RUGBY COURT,” ETC., ETC. 



New York: 


National Temperance Society and . Publication House, 

58 READE STREET 


1884. 


PZ-1 


Copyright, 1884. 

NATIONAL TEMPERANCE SOCIETY AND PUBLICATION 

HOUSE. 


STEREOTYPED BY 

THE ORPHANS OF THE CHURCH CHARITY FOUNDATION, BROOKLYN, N. Y. 


PRINTED BY E. O. JENKIN’S SON, 20 NORTH WILLIAM ST., NEW YORK, 


CHAPTER PAGE 

i. — Miss Janet Page 5 

11.— Mr. Baldwin and Dolly Peters . . 16 

m. — Miss Janet’s Home 31 

iv. — Jessie Finds a Friend . . . . 46 

v. — Don’s Question . . . . .56 

vi. — Miss Page has a Guest .... 68 

vii. — D on’s Late Visit 87 

vm. — One Night’s Work .... 103 

ix. — A Sunday to be Remembered . . .125 

x. — Louise’s New Home . . . . 137 

xi. — One Day’s Work . . . . .165 

xii. — H ere a Little and There a Little . . 181 

xiii. — Louise’s Wedding ..... 208 

xiv. — The Retreat ...... 232 

xv. — The Concert Saloon. . . . .252 

xvi. — Jessie and Kitty . . . . .272 

xvii. — New Neighbors 295 

xvm. — A Happy Home 318 

xix. — One Night at the Dance Hall , . *337 

xx. — News from Afar . . . . .362 

xxii. — W hen Afar off 412 

xxm. — The End 426 























































































































MISS JANETS OLD HOUSE. 


CHAPTER I. 

MISS JANET PAGE. 

TN a certain street on the east side of New 
York city, a street running to the ferry, 
was a brown-stone house, standing in a deep 
yard and shut in by a tall iron fence. Now, 
this description suggests an aristocratic 
dwelling, but no house could be that in this 
locality. The street was narrow, poorly 
paved, while on either side were groceries, 
thriving grog-shops, pawnbrokers, and dirty 
tenement houses. It was a thoroughfare for 
every sort of conveyance going to the ferry ; 
a place where goats, hens, children, ragmen 


6 Miss Janet's Old House . 

and organ-players mingled in promiscuous 
activity. 

The house itself was large and well built, 
but passers-by often stopped to look at it 
wonderingly ; for every window pane was 
gone, the front door was barred, the front 
yard was full of rank weeds and tall uncut 
grass. The neighbors had scared their child- 
ren with stories of crimes once committed 
there, until they at last believed their own fa- 
bles. Only a few business men on the street 
knew the truth ; that the place belonged to a 
queer and miserly spinster, who, for some 
freak’s sake, would neither rent nor sell this 
property 

One beautiful morning in May, a young 
girl stood in the door of the opposite tene- 
ment house, waiting evidently for some one 
who lingered within ; her clothing was of the 
poorest sort, yet one looked first at her 
pretty face, her clear eyes, and the red- 
brown hair waving back from her white fore- 


Miss Janet Page . 


7 


head and curling in delicate rings about it. 
Poor Jessie McCoy ! As she gazed listlessly 
at the street scenes, something recalled to 
her the years when she was a tiny girl in 
Scotland. Like a beautiful dream, she re- 
membered the mountain stream tumbling 
past their cottage ; the shepherd dogs that 
were her playmates, the great bunches of 
blue-bells that she used to gather in spring, 
and later in the year the purple heather — 
was it all in this same world of work, and 
poverty, and trouble ? The beauty of her life 
had faded with those blossoms of her baby- 
hood. In the new country, she found always 
unlovely surroundings ; her mother died ; 
another woman filling her place, did her duty 
by the child as hard-working, ignorant 
women understand duty; but Jessie's path 
had not been over roses. 

“Jessie !” 

“Yes, mother,” said the young girl, turn- 
ing to hear what some one coming down the 


8 


Miss Janet's Old House. 


stairs behind her had to say, a woman not 
over fifty, yet one whose hair was gray, her 
shoulders bent, and her face old with sick- 
ness and trouble. 

“What are we going to do? There don’t 
seem to be a place that I can rent for any 
price we can give. I must not spend another 
cent for car fares, and my feet won’t carry me 
much farther.” 

“ Stop here and rest a minute. Where can 
we go now, anyway ?” 

The two waited in the open door, discuss- 
ing their affairs as they stood, not heeding a 
woman who had crossed the road to gaze at 
the old stone house, and, stopping near them, 
was listening. When they were about to 
start, she said : “ Are you looking for rooms 
to live in yourselves ?” 

“ Yes, for cheaper ones than we can find,” 
replied Mrs. McCoy. 

“ That is my house over there,” said the wo- 
man, nodding towards the tall dark building. 


Miss Janet Page . 


9 


Jessie, for a moment, thought the speaker 
must be crazy ; but, looking attentively, she 
saw that her garments were as rich as they 
were dingy and antiquated. In person, she 
was short and slight ; her hair was perfectly 
white, her eyes as black and shining as jet 
beads. She fixed them on Jessie in a sharp, 
steady scrutiny, while she spoke: “Yes, that 
house belongs to me. I find that tramps 
have been lodging there. I can’t have that. 
Are you respectable women ?” 

Jessie twitched her mother s arm to make 
her start on, but the woman continued : 
“ Don’t be a foolish girl. I know what I am 
about. If you can prove you are orderly 
people, maybe I will let you live in two or 
three of my rooms ; just to keep tramps 
away from the premises. Rent the place I 
never will.” 

Mrs. McCoy looked at Jessie quickly. 
She was half-puzzled, and wholly curious. 

“ If you think I am ‘not in earnest, come 


io Miss Janet's Old House . 

across, and I will show you that I carry the 
keys.” 

Jessie started promptly to follow the little 
creature, who, turning suddenly, remarked : 
“ You can call me Miss Janet Page.” 

They crossed the street, dodging an ice 
cart, and Miss Page unlocked the gate, say- 
ing : “ It is a mystery how the tramps got in ; 
but they do it — from the rear, probably.” 

She led them to the front steps, under 
which she turned to the basement door and 
unlocked that. They shivered in the damp 
of the unwholesome lower hall, across the 
floor of which scampered a rat; but Miss 
Janet went on up-stairs, and, almost in the 
dark, they followed, Jessie going first. 

“ I can’t have you on my parlor floor, if 
only for the name of it,” said their guide, 
pausing, while Jessie peered over her shoul- 
der into the “ parlor.” Such a place ! Stray 
sunbeams struggled through the battered 
shutters, and glinted on the dirty walls which 


Miss Janet Page. n 

once had been n’cely tinted, but now were 
stained with moisture and covered with dust 
and cobwebs. The ceilings showed black- 
ened gilt and fresco pictures. On the floor, 
in one corner, was tossed a heap of old straw 
which certainly had been used as a bed. 

“Yes, just see that, now! Tramps have 
slept here, and I won’t have it any more. 
All the locks shall be looked to, and I will 
provide a dog. Will you treat it kindly ?” 

“We can’t agree to feed it,” replied Mrs. 
McCoy, with the same fancy Jessie had just 
then, that they must be in a dream; explain- 
ing later, “ We can’t, because often we don’t 
have enough to eat ourselves.” 

“ Is this all your family ?” 

“No, I have a stepson seventeen, and a 
little boy ; but the big one is no help to 
me.” 

“ But your little boy can come to me at 
No. — Forty-second Street every day with the 
dog, and he shall be fed — the dog,” she add- 


12 Miss Janet's Old House . 

ed quickly, as if they might suppose she 
meant the child. 

“ Now tell me about yourself, and if I find 
that your story is true, you may move into 
any of the back rooms on the other floors and 
stay as long as I see fit, rent free. IVe told 
Baldwin that I never would rent or sell this 
house. Now, who are you?” 

“ My husband was a stone-cutter. He 
died two years ago and left us without a pen- 
ny. Jessie and I do anything we can find to 
do. We have made neck-ties lately for a 
house down-town. I am sick in bed more 
than half the time. She fetches the work 
home, so I can help, and it is better.” 

“Yes, keep her under your eye,” said the 
little spinster sharply, scanning Jessie from 
head to foot, and then remarking to her stern- 
ly, “If you had red hair, a flat nose, and 
were cross-eyed, you would be better off 
to my mind, more likely to be a good girl 
and to earn your own living. Good looks 


13 


Miss Janet Page. 

are worse than wasted on a working-girl. 
Well, I will send Baldwin to find out about 
you, and if it is all right, you can move in as 
soon as you like. I won’t have the front 
door opened, or a front window, and I won’t 
have any liberties taken with a place that 
cost as much as this once cost.” 

Jessie was less impressed by these words 
than was her mother, for she reflected that 
there was scarcely a whole pane of glass in 
the front, and could imagine no liberty that 
had not already been taken with the pre- 
mises. 

“ If you can get quietly in and out, can 
keep tramps from burning the house down, 
you will satisfy me.” 

They went on up a flight of stairs with 
once fine oaken woodwork, past a niche for a 
statue, picked their way over a heap of plas- 
tering that had fallen from the ceiling, and 
chose their rooms with rear windows. Mrs. 
McCoy, finding that they could be light and 


14 Miss Janets Old House . 

sunny, suddenly exclaimed, “ I’m so surprised 
I can’t take it in ; but I think you are won- 
derfully kind.” 

“ It is not from kindness I act. I was very 
angry to see that old straw in the parlor — 
think of it ! Then I happened to hear you 
talk.” 

“All the same, we are very glad. If we 
have a roof over our heads, and we are able to 
spend what we make for something to eat, 
and—” 

Mrs. McCoy could not finish, for Miss 
Janet hustled them down-stairs without more 
ceremony, and when they were out in the 
daylight, only said, “ Baldwin will see to the 
rest ; where will he find you ?” 

When the address was given, she hastened 
away to the near avenue, and entering an 
up -town car, disappeared. 

Mrs. McCoy, gazing after her, muttered, 
“ Perhaps she is as crazy as a loon, and we’ll 
never hear of her again.” 


\ 


Miss Janet Page , 15 

“ But she had the house keys, and she told 
us where she lived.” 

“ It is mighty queer, a house for no rent, 
and a dog going out to his meals like a gen- 
tleman. Well, we’ll wait and see. We can’t 
lose, if we don’t gain.” 


1 6 Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER II. 


MR. BALDWIN AND DOLLY PETERS. 

FTER taking her seat in the car, Miss 



Janet rode as far as Forty-second street; 
then alighting, she arrived, after a brisk walk 
of about five minutes’ duration, at a house 
not unlike the one in the street last described. 
Everything in this locality, however, be- 
tokened wealth and elegance. Only fine 
horses and handsome carriages passed here, 
while dainty little children with their nurses 
thronged the broad, clean pavement. Miss 
Page entered this house also by the basement, 
and went at once to the kitchen, where she 
found her trusted servant, Dolly Peters, in 
cheerful converse with her man Baldwin — 
Mr. Baldwin, Dolly always called him, for he 


Mr. Baldwin and Dolly Peters . 17 

was by no means employed in menial ser- 
vices about this establishment. Almost every- 
thing that a man not a lawyer or a doctor 
could do for Miss Page, Baldwin did. He 
was a pleasant-faced, middle-aged man, with 
a drawl, a slight Yankee accent, and a decid- 
ed limp. After twenty years of city life, Mr. 
Baldwin retained a sort of simplicity which 
seemed like rustic inexperience, but he had 
plenty of shrewdness. Dolly, the only house 
servant whom Miss Page employed, was a 
placid, moon-faced creature, with a good sense 
of what ought to be in a house like this, and 
the will to carry it out, in her own 
domain at least. When she opposed herself 
to Miss Page, as she often had done, the lat- 
ter found her yielding only in the way gutta 
percha yields — instantly, softly, but when the 
pressure is removed, the position of things 
must be just as before. Her kitchen was a 
beautiful* room for neatness and cheerful 
brightness of aspect. Her range shone like 


1 8 Miss Janet's Old House . 

black satin, and Baldwin had painted the 
chimney over it bright red. The oak dresser 
was gay with polished pewter tea-pots, odd 
bits of crockery and tomato cans, carefully 
kept for their outside pictures. 

“ Miss Page,” said Dolly, as the lady 
glanced disapprovingly at a pan of lettuce on 
the table, “ it is beefsteak day — or it ought 
to be.” 

“ We eat too much meat. They say hard- 
working Germans and Poles eat only black 
bread and coffee ; yet see their strength.” 

“ I ain’t a Pole, and Mr. Baldwin’s stomach 
don’t seem to be after no such foreign pattern, 
either. Shall I get two pounds ?” 

“A pound and a half is plenty. Haven’t 
we had meat once before this week ?” 

Baldwin shook his head at Dolly, who was 
about to argue the matter, and she merely 
answered, “ No, ma’am, we hain’t.” Miss 
Page was singularly stingy. She would have 
kept herself and her servants on next to 


Mr. Baldwin and Dolly Peters. 19 

nothing if they would have submitted, but 
Mr. Baldwin, knowing her great wealth, had 
long ago decided not to go hungry, and he 
never feared to make clear his sentiments 
when he found this necessary. 

To him Miss Janet now turned and narrat- 
ed her morning proceedings. His only re- 
sponse when she ended was a subdued whis- 
tle. 

“What do you think of putting them in the 
house ?” she insisted. 

“ Putting them in is easy enough ; but 
what about putting them out ?” 

“ Oh ! I can do that any time.” 

“If they were troublesome, it might be 
hard for you to turn them out. If they were 
all right, it would be hard for them to go out 
on five minutes’ notice.” 

“ I never should send them off in any such 
short order,” replied Miss Page, snappishly, 
and Baldwin made a mental note of the re- 
mark. His mistress was so full of freaks, 


20 Miss Janet's Old House. 

he always liked to hold her by some pro- 
mise. 

“ Here is the number of the house in Sec- 
ond Avenue where you will find them,” she 
added ; “ their name is McCoy. Find out all 
about them in some way, and if they are not 
disreputable, let them settle themselves in 
my house.” 

“At once?” 

“Yes, right away. O yes, Baldwin, be- 
sides that, I want you to provide them with 
a dog.” 

“ A dog !” echoed Dolly; but Miss Page 
paid no attention to her surprise. Later she 
explained her wishes to Baldwin. When she 
went up-stairs, Dolly exclaimed : “ Isn’t she 
a queer one now, to be picking folks out of 
the streets like that ?” 

“ It is a good thing, on the whole. After 
somebody has lived inside those walls, she 
may be willing to put the old place to a sen- 
sible use.” 


21 


Mr. Baldwin and Dolly Peters. 

“ Can you remember when she lived 
there ?” 

“ Indeed I can ! It was just sixteen years 
ago this spring that she moved out, and I 
lived there with her four years. She was 
born in the country, but came to New York 
as a girl. Her father built that house when 
it was considered away, way up town, and 
very elegant. Her brothers and sisters all 
died there, and she clung to the place until 
the street got so dirty and demoralized that 
she could not stand it, then she moved here.” 

Perhaps that was all Baldwin knew of his 
mistress’s affairs, perhaps he knew more than 
he told. 

“ Well, she is the oddest creature that ever 
I saw. If she moved in here sixteen years 
ago, why on earth hasn’t she found a place 
to hang up her clothes yet, or a” — 

“ There, there, never mind, Dolly — a 
beefsteak is it you want me to order ? ” 

As Baldwin goes out to market, let us 


22 Miss Janet's Old House. 

follow Miss Janet up-stairs. We find no 
dust and cobwebs here, but clean paint, and 
handsomely finished rooms. Nevertheless 
one would suppose that Miss Page has recently 
arrived with all her belongings, and had not 
been able in the limited time to arrange her 
furniture. In her front parlor was a bed, in 
the hall a book-case — not an empty chair or 
sofa was anywhere visible. Their seats she 
used as tables, putting there books, papers, 
lamps, dishes, anything — while over their 
backs she disposed her wardrobe. Miss 
Page added her outer garments to the con- 
tents of a large rocking-chair ; then having 
nothing in particular to do, she went to look 
out of her parlor window. She often spent 
hours there. Dolly thought she was watch- 
ing her neighbors with childish curiosity. 
Baldwin used to declare, “ She isn’t seeing 
the Vandykes or the Piersons’, she is think- 
ing. When I pass below on the pavement 
and look up, she stares right through me.” 


Mr . Baldwin and Dolly Peters . 23 

“What is she thinking about, do you sup- 
pose, Mr. Baldwin ? ” 

“ Oh, she has a choice of subjects, like the 
most of us, but I reckon it is things past and 
gone that occupy her.” 

This morning, at any rate, Miss Page was 
thinking of her old house. She had lived 
there ; she only ate, drank, and was shelter- 
ed by the present abode. That home was 
always in her imagination, warm, bright, full 
of cheerful companions. She saw each room 
with the fine old furniture there in order. 
Even the old family servants were to her 
more real than ever Dolly or Baldwin had 
been ; their individual traits were more dis- 
tinct in her mind. When she seemed to be 
keeping watch of some caller at a neighbor’s 
mansion, she was very likely rehearsing 
mentally a family feast, a wedding or birth- 
day banquet. There were no such happy 
families nowadays, there was no such fine 
hospitality. Her friends were all dead and 


24 Miss Janet's Old House . 

gone. Such commonplace people as were 
left in the world were probably enduring life 
as she was enduring it, because she must. 

“ Miss Page/’ said Dolly, putting her head 
inside the door, “ I forgot to tell you that 
Miss Louise Norton was here to call, and left 
her love for you.” 

“ Bring it here then ; I’d like to see how 
much there is of it,” replied Miss Page, sourly. 

“ She looked like a new-blown rose — a 
white one,” ventured Dolly, who had more 
sentiment than fat cooks usually possess. 

“Then she probably spends all she earns 
by teaching school in buying finery.” 

“ She said she would come again soon.” 

“You might have told her my will is made. 
The fact that she is my second cousin has 
not prevented my leaving my money to — a 
lunatic asylum, we will say, for the present.” 

“ What makes you say that now about her ? 
I don’t believe she comes to see you for any- 
thing but human sort of motives.” 


Mr. Baldwin and Dolly Peters. 25 

“ It is very human to count on rich rela- 
tions — to err is human too, and will be in 
this case. Did Baldwin let them weigh the 
beefsteak with the bone in ? Tell him never 
to do that.” 

“ Yes’m,” said Dolly, retreating, and won- 
dering meanwhile if ever a steak was 
brought into this house without that injunc- 
tion. 

Notwithstanding her ungracious words, 
Miss Page was really sorry not to have seen 
her visitor. She had so few callers, that one 
who, like Louise Norton, persisted in com- 
ing in spite of cool receptions, such a one 
made a break in the monotony of life here. 
Louise was a bright, brave girl, an orphan, 
and self-dependent. She taught in a young 
ladies’ seminary, and continually vexed Miss 
Janet by following her own judgment (usual- 
ly good), by thinking her own thoughts (often 
original), and above all, by innocently be- 
traying her belief that her wealthy relative 


26 


Miss Janet's Old House. 


led a life not as satisfactory as her own. She 
came to see her out of real kindliness, and 
while Miss Janet would have been very 
angry, had she, in her heart, actually sup- 
posed that Louise was mercenary, it made 
her almost as vexed that the young girl dared 
to be perfectly independent, to agree or to 
disagree with her as she saw fit. 

Dolly had scarcely returned to the kitchen 
when Miss Page heard a ring at the 
basement door-bell, and soon after some one 
came up and tapped at the parlor door. 

“ Come in, Baldwin, and I will give you 
full directions,” called his mistress. 

“ It is not Baldwin, Cousin Janet ! It is I. 
To-day is a holiday, and I am calling on my 
friends. I came here once before, but you 
were not in. Isn’t this a lovely cluster of 
roses? I’ll give you half if you have a vase 
anywhere to hold them.” 

“ Buying flowers is a great waste of 
money. You pay it out for what will be 


Mr. Baldwin and Dolly Peters. 27 

perfectly worthless in a few hours,” said Miss 
Page, seating herself in the one empty corn - 
er of a sofa and letting her guest look until 
she found a goblet in which to put her roses. 
She was a tall, slender girl, tastefully dressed 
in some cool gray material. Her dark-brown 
hair was brushed back in an easy coil ; her 
face in repose was childlike, just now a twin- 
kle in her eyes made it mischievous ; but let 
Miss Norton (as her scholars knew her) begin 
to talk of some intellectual topic, her whole 
face enkindled, and she became rarely attrac- 
tive. 

“ Oh ! this is as you look at it,” she replied 
gayly. “ When I buy flowers, I buy so very 
much for so little money. For instance, 
things went all wrong at school yesterday, 
and I walked out tired and almost blue. A 
little ragged boy offered me six great gold 
and purple pansies for three cents, when I 
had them. They rested me and made me 
positively happy.” 


28 Miss Janet's Old House . 

Miss Page sniffed contemptuously. 

Louise went on with simple good nature. 
“ A realization of something new to me came 
with them. Once there was no such thing 
as a flower, not a pansy in the whole uni- 
verse, and God thought of one, a beautiful 
first thought, before he made it. I went 
along the street wondering if I had given 
to me the ability to create a flower, I could 
have a quite new conception of beauty, could 
see one in my imagination. I couldn’t even 
fancy a new one.” 

“ Of course not ! and such far-fetched 
notions are irreverent.” 

“ Not to me,” said Louise, quietly goingon. 
“ I took my pansies home, and all day they 
reminded me of my tenth birthday. We 
lived in the loveliest little parsonage then, all 
overgrown with woodbine, and in the garden 
were rows of tall white lilies every spring, 
and I had a pansy bed. That birthday was 


Mr. Baldwin and Dolly Peters. 29 

full of sunshine and singing birds and pleas- 
ant gifts.” 

“ But it is all gone now, and you’ll find 
your life duller every year that you live.” 

“ It is not all gone, any more than the 
sweetness and the pleasant thoughts go when 
the flowers fade,” said Louise with a tremor of 
her sensitive lips. How little any one. knew 
how hard she found it sometimes to keep in 
the sunshine. * 

Miss Janet looked at her curiously a mo- 
ment, and then remarked : “ If you bought 
pansies yesterday, I surely think it was need- 
less to pay for more roses to-day, especially 
if the fine sentiments that come with them 
are as lasting as you say.” 

A gleam of impatience flashed in Louise’s 
eye, for she was as high-spirited as she was 
sympathetic. Then she said, “ No. I do 
not buy flowers every day, by any means ; 
these were given to me. The little boy I 
bought the violets of, always stands on the 


30 


Miss Janet's Old House. 


corner of Twenty-third Street. We have a 
smiling acquaintance. To-day he turned red 
to the roots of his hair, when he held out 
these roses, and said : ‘ Don’t buy ’em — take 
’em. I saved ’em for you ! ’ I didn’t offer 
him a penny, but we’ll make it right here- 
after.” 


M iss Janet's Home. 


3 1 


CHAPTER III. 
miss janet’s home. 

TV/T ISS PAGE made no effort, for a 
while after this, to entertain her visitor, 
who untied her hat string, saying : “ I would 
like to stay an hour or two. I am tired walk- 
ing, but you need not be hindered by me. I 
will take a book.” 

“ Very well, you might as well stay to din- 
ner, if you are here over the time.” 

Hiding her amusement at this singular in- 
vitation, Louise found a volume of Words- 
worth’s poems rising out of Miss Page’s 
winter bonnet, which, with a pair of bellows, 
was snugly stowed away under a centre table. 
Miss Page relapsed into a brown study, 


32 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


coming out at last to ask, “ Did you ever see 
my old house across town ?” 

“ I did not know you had any other 
house.” 

“ I have a whole block of houses in Crosby 
Street,” said Miss Page. 

“Tenement houses ?” 

“Yes, and they bring in a good rent, too.” 

“ I hope you keep them in better order 
than some I read of lately in the ‘ Tribune ’ ?” 

“ I am not running charitable institutions. 
I give as little and get as much as other 
householders ; but the house I speak of is 
our old home. I never rent it.” 

Louise looked somewhat interested, and 
Miss Janet proceeded to give her a dry account 
of her morning’s walk and meeting with the 
McCoys. 

Louise thought the affair rather peculiar, 
but made no comment. 

“ Now that I have agreed to let them in, I 
begin to think I have been very foolish. 


Miss Janet's Home . 


33 


Baldwin must go and find out what he can ; 
being women, they will know how to put on 
a good appearance, any way, I suppose,’’ 
muttered Miss Page to herself. 

“ Why don’t you go and search them out 
yourself?” 

“ I ! — oh, I am tired of the whole thing. 
You go with Baldwin ! See where they live 
and how ; a man is not half as quick as a 
woman. I will pay your car fare going, and 
returning, you will be right on your way 
home, where you would have to* pay it any 
way. You won’t mind the time if it is a 
holiday.” 

“ Yes, I will go,” said Louise, putting down 
her book, and at that moment Dolly announc- 
ed that dinner was ready. Louise was rarely 
invited to a meal in her cousin’s mansion, so 
familiarity with Miss Page’s habits had not 
wholly blunted the young girl’s humorous 
perception of many oddities. The repast was 
spread on a magnificent great bare mahog- 


34 Miss Ja 7 iet's Old House . 

any table, polished like a mirror. Every 
plate was ‘ odd/ every cup was ‘ nicked / 
there was only one spoon for each, and that 
was worn thin and dented, as Louise fancied, 
with the print of the teeth of generations of 
children. 

Baldwin had dared to add peas and straw- 
berries to the bill of fare, an extravagance 
which Miss Janet openly rebuked when 
Dolly brought them ; but remembering the 
“whole block of houses in Crosby Street,” 
Louise partook of the frugal meal with an 
excellent appetite. 

“ What salary do you get ?” asked Miss 
Page, as the dinner went on. 

“ Louise replied, “ Five hundred dollars, 
and my board for nine months of the year.” 

You ought to be laying up money at that 
rate. Let me see, your board for three months 
at say five dollars a week would be about 
sixty or seventy dollars out (and I should be 
sewing or earning something in play time); 


Miss yanet's Home. 


35 

then one hundred dollars ought to cover the 
rest of your expenses.” 

“ I need rest in vacation. I never found 
good board for five dollars, and my expenses, 
when most carefully managed, much exceed 
one hundred dollars a year. But I hope to 
put by enough to keep out of the poor- 
house, should I be taken ill,” returned Louise, 
with just a shade of quiet dignity, which Miss 
Page was forced to see and respect. She 
even felt that she had called out Louise’s 
next remark : 

“ You have said how you would manage 
my affairs — and sometimes I fancy how I 
would carry on yours.” 

“ Indeed ! What would you do first ?” 

“ I would make every room in this house 
look as pretty and homelike as it might look 
if — see the cat, for instance, asleep on that ele- 
gant illustrated Shakespeare !” 

“ ’Tis hard for her, that’s a fact ; she usu- 
ally prefers my India shawl.” 


36 Miss Janet's Old House . 

“ Dolly makes the kitchen cheerful,” sug- 
gested Louise, half saucily. 

“ She says so. She lives there and likes 
it. I live here and like this.” 

“Then,” continued Louise, daringly, “I 
would spend my money as fast as I could 
spend it.” 

“ I’ll warrant you would do just that ” — 

“Yes, I would give Christmas, New Year, 
and birthday presents to poor children. I 
would send boys and girls to country homes. 
I would buy libraries to send out on vessels 
where the crew would read them. I would 
pay poor harassed men’s debts and give over- 
worked women vacations. I would take sick 
people to ride in Central Park with a fine 
carriage and horses, kept for that purpose, 
and I would — ” 

“ Never mind ; no such wild-ideaed crea- 
ture will ever have the scattering of my 
money ; so in the mean time eat your dinner 


Miss Janet's Home . 37 

before it gets cold. You are very senti- 
mental.” 

Louise pushed back from her forehead 
a stray lock of brown hair and laughed : 

“ Am I ? Well now, where do the Mc- 
Coys live ?” 

Miss Janet told her the street and number, 
and soon after dinner the young girl started 
with Mr. Baldwin. 

They rode down-town about twenty blocks 
and then crossed to the tenement house cor- 
responding to the number given. 

‘ You better go slow and stop for breath 
on every landing,” said Baldwin, as entering 
the first narrow dark hall they began the 
ascent ; a woman in the front door having 
told them that the McCoy’s were on the fifth 
floor back. The stairs were carpetless, the 
banisters rickety, the few sickly rays of light 
from the skylight showed dingy paint and 
cracked plaster. From behind every closed 
door came the noise of the sewing-machines, 


38 Miss Janet's Old House . 

laundry work, or the voices of children. 
Some doors stood open, giving glimpses of 
disordered rooms and rude inmates, who 
stared at Louise as she passed. At the top 
of the house they stopped, heated with 
climbing in the close air. 

“ How I should hate to live so smothered 
and shut in,” said Louise, under her breath. 

“This is a regular palace, compared to 
some tenements I’ve seen. Miss Page’s don’t 
begin to be as clean or as convenient,” re- 
turned Baldwin. 

At that instant, a door just before them 
opened, and Louise gave an exclamation of 
surprise at sight of the little boy who stood 
on the threshold. He was a slim, fair child, 
with blue eyes shaded by beautiful black 
lashes. 

“You here, my little flower boy ? Do you 
live here ?” 

{< Yes; but we are not going to live here 
any longer.” 


Miss Janet's Home. 


39 


“ What is your name ?” asked Louise. 

Donald McCoy ; Don, everybody calls 

me.” 

Baldwin, looking over his head, saw a 
place having better furniture and seeming 
neater than any seen below. While he was 
giving the one quick survey, Mrs. McCoy 
appeared from an inner room and looked ex- 
pectantly at him, as if she knew his errand. 
With a word or two of explanation, he en- 
tered after Louise, who set herself quietly to 
taking notes during the dialogue that ensued 
between the two. She chatted pleasantly 
with little Don, and had decided that the 
woman talked like one struggling hard to 
earn a respectable living ; when suddenly 
calling “ Jessie,” Mrs. McCoy pushed open a 
door near her and summoned her daughter. 
The latter looked exceedingly pretty, as, 
blushing a little on coming face to face with 
Louise, she stood puzzled at the presence of 
a lady so elegant as she seemed in her dainty 


40 Miss Janet's Old House. 

attire. It was instinct always with Louise to 
tell things in an easy, straight-forward way, 
if it seemed best to state them at all. So she 
made known quite simply to Jessie that she 
had come with her cousin’s # agent to learn a 
little more about them than a man would be 
likely to find out. 

Jessie listened respectfully, but with a puz- 
zled expression on her face, which Louise 
noticed and misinterpreted. 

“ You don’t know what I want,” she be- 
gan ; but Jessie interrupted: 

“Yes, I know; but it bothers me to tell 
you much about us, because you see we 
are nobodies. The landlord here will tell 
you we are clean, quiet folks, who pay our 
rent, do not damage his property, and never 
quarrel with others or among ourselves. 
Mother is not well ; Don earns a little. J am 
out of a place just now.” 

“ What have you been doing ?” 

“ Making neckties, lately.” 


Miss Janet's Home . 


4i 


A few questions led the girl on to telling 
how hard it was to find respectable work at 
any price sufficient to keep soul and body to- 
gether. Louise was supporting herself, and 
fancied that she knew something of life ; but 
as Jessie told of her experience, her own life 
seemed by contrast one of luxury. 

“ You have a brother, I believe,” said 
Louise. 

“Yes, but he is out of work, and not very 
steady. He is not in the citv now — is doing 
something in Jersey.” 

“ Don seems a bright little fellow.” 

“He is that,” exclaimed Jessie, with ani- 
mation. He can read beautifully, and I wish 
we could keep him in school ; but he gets 
along so well selling flowers that mother says 
he must keep at it for the present. People 
buy of him when they will not of other flower 
children.” 

There was a silence after that which grew 
a little awkward. Louise thought to herself 


42 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


that she was not learning much more of the 
McCoy’s than she knew before, and perhaps 
Miss Janet would not care for her impress- 
ions. However, she should not hesitate to say 
that they seemed to her good enough to let 
into the old house. By this time, Baldwin 
had stopped talking with the mother, and had 
risen to go ; so Louise rose also. She was a 
little surprised to hear Baldwin say: “You 
can move in, Mrs. McCoy, whenever you see 
fit, and I should say the sooner the better.” 

On the way down, he remarked : “ They 

are decent people, and it is far better to have 
somebody in that house than to leave it to 
become a rendezvous for thieves. I think it 
has been occupied by such gentry more than 
once. I will tell you something, if you will 
never mention it to Miss Janet.” 

Louise, who knew Baldwin would never 
tell her anything he was bound in honor to 
keep to himself, replied : 

“ I will not speak of it.” 


Miss Janet's Home . 


43 


“Well, then, there are two rooms on the 
second- floor front of that house that are com- 
pletely furnished with once elegant furniture. 
Miss Janet shut them up years ago, and she 
supposes they never have been opened since 
that time, but they had to be looked into this 
spring. A detective went to her lawyer and 
told him he suspected that thieves haunted 
that house, and that part in particular. Par- 
ker, the lawyer, knows Miss Janet like a 
book, so he said he should not worry her with 
it, but he sent me with the officer. The place 
had been entered at some time, but evidently 
months before, or so the detective said, judg- 
ing, I guess, from some peach-pits on the 
floor, with chunks of old bread. There were 
a few spoons and other plated things scat- 
tred around, as if silver had been brought 
there, examined, and these cast out as worth- 
less, or too nearly so to run any risk with.” 

u But why were the rooms shut up fur- 
nished ?” asked Louise, greatly interested. 


44 Miss Janet's Old House . 

“Miss Janet knows,” returned Baldwin, 
shrugging his shoulders. 

They stood on the corner waiting for a 
horse-car, and Louise had her suspicions that 
Baldwin knew, if he had chosen to tell. 

“ Were they nicely furnished ?” she con- 
tinued. 

“ Everything had been very handsome, but 
the windows were broken, and rain and sun 
had spoiled part of the carpet, the curtains 
were faded, some small things had, no doubt, 
been stolen ; but it was grand and lonesome, 
I assure you. I pulled things back from the 
windows, not daring to have them mended, 
and then I got a patent lock and fastened it 
up, sacred to the spooks again.” 

“ How curious !” said Louise. 

“ If you were not one of the family, Miss 
Norton, I shouldn’t be telling you this; but I 
reckon you aren’t one of the tattling sort. 
There comes our car.” 

They entered the car and rode together 


Miss Janet's Home. 45 

for ten minutes ; then Louise said : “You can 
tell cousin Janet that I saw nothing wrong 
about the McCoy’s. The woman seems re- 
spectable, if not very forcible, and the girl is 
quiet and modest. I felt interested in her. 
There is no use in my going back to tell her 
this, so I will go home when we turn the 
next corner.” 

“ Very well, Miss Louise ; and beg your 
pardon for suggesting that you come to see 
Miss Janet often ; I’m sure it must be good 
for her to have somebody like you to talk 
with.” 

“ Well, I will gladly come, if you think so. 
Good-by and Louise left him to return 
alone to Miss Janet, or to find the dog for the 
McCoy establishment. 


46 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER IV. 

JESSIE FINDS A FRIEND. 

r T 1 HE day after Louise Norton’s visit to 
the McCoy’s, she sat in a recitation-room 
of “ Madame Benoit’s French and English ” 
school, hearing a dozen or more young ladies 
recite a lesson in literature. As she looked 
at them, merry, thoughtless girls, all the chil- 
dren of wealthy parents, and some of them 
idle and neglectful of every means of culture 
at their command, she thought of Jessie 
McCoy. Evidently she possessed as good a 
mind as any one of these girls, and she was 
as attractive in person and manner. “ I 
wonder if I could not help her in some prac- 
tical way,” thought Louise, carrying on for 


Jessie Finds a Friend 


47 


the rest of that hour a double train of ideas. 
She talked with the class of Chaucer and early 
English history, she planned to send Jessie 
helpful books to try and inspire her to be 
learning something. Moreover, because the 
most urgent need Jessie had at present was 
the need of work for support, Louise re- 
solved to get her sewing to do from the 
Seminary. The girls one and all hated to 
“ mend/’ perhaps they would pay the 
McCoys for mending their torn garments. 
If either mother or daughter did fine wash- 
ing and starching, she was sure work of this 
kind could often be supplied them from the 
school. To think after this fashion was, with 
Louise, to act. Within the next twenty-four 
hours she had considerable work engaged for 
the McCoys, and only awaited a leisure hour 
in which to go and see them in her cousin’s 
old home. 

The opportunity came late one lovely after- 
noon in the early part of June. Keeping in 


48 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


mind Baldwin's description of the house, she 
found it easily enough, although she had for- 
gotten the number. It still looked like a 
quite deserted place, only that the tall grass 
and weeds were trampled down. The base- 
ment door was locked, but Louise rang a 
rusty bell, which she heard echo long and 
loud. Soon there was a patter of feet, and 
the door was opened by Don, who beamed 
with delight at seeing Louise, whose sweet 
face he greatly admired ; he led her up two 
flights of stairs to a large room on the second 
floor back. Louise glanced down the hall, so 
dark that she could scarcely see the doors of 
those closed front rooms ; then she followed 
Don into the rooms chosen by the family. 

“ Isn’t it pretty here !” cried Don, dancing 
about and looking at her for some expression 
of admiration. He was quite satisfied at the 
interest Louise showed, when a moment after, 
Jessie appeared and led her about to see the 
place. The walls, windows and paint had 


49 


Jessie Finds a Friend. 

been cleaned. The scanty furniture of the 
McCoy’s had been neatly arranged, and then 
Baldwin had enriched them to an extent Don 
thought simply munificent. From the attic 
he had brought an old hair-cloth sofa, lower 
at one end than at the other, but very com- 
fortable for use, a number of chairs, tables 
and other articles, all more or less damaged, 
yet all available for some purpose. As each 
had been handsome in its day, the air they 
gave to the room, when cleaned, was one of 
“decayed gentility,” comical, yet not without 
something homelike. 

“ I think Mr. Baldwin is ever so good,” said 
Jessie. “ It was enough to let us have a 
roof over our heads without rent, but he has 
been here every day or two to find something 
new for our comfort. Yesterday it was those 
curtains,” and she pointed to the windows 
where the rosy light came warmly through 
old crimson folds, a little faded, a little moth- 
eaten, but far better than none at all. 

4 


50 Miss Janet's Old House, 

“Yes, Mr. Baldwin is an excellent man,” 
returned Louise, seating herself by the broad 
window sill where Don had put carefully a 
supply of cut flowers for the morrow’s sales. 
He came and stood by her as she sat there, 
making for her, as she talked, a dainty little 
bouquet. 

“ If we can find work now,” said Jessie, 
“ everything will be right.” 

“ I have something to propose,” said 
Louise. “ Can you sew nicely by hand ?” 

“ Mother sews beautifully. I am more 
used to a machine.” 

“ Well, if you will come every Friday night 
to me at the Seminary, where I teach, I can 
give you the mending to do for at least ten 
or perhaps fifteen girls; and I will see they 
pay according to the amount of work done. 
Can you do fine washing and ironing ?” 

“Yes, indeed; I can do that nicely. I 
like it better than doing machine work.” 

“Well, I can get more or less of that for 


Jessie Finds a Friend. 51 

you to do for a few weeks, and again in the 
fall, when the school re-opens.” 

“ I tried this a few months ago, and was 
doing well, but I gave it up.” 

“Why ?” 

A deep color dyed the young girl’s face 
as she replied : “ I had to take washing home 
to lodgings, to people I knew nothing of — I 
got into strange, suspicious places sometimes, 
often I was cheated out of my pay, and at 
last — ” She paused a moment before she 
went on. “ I had been washing a few times 
for a gentleman who seemed rich, and highly 
respected by the people where he boarded. 
One day when I took the clothes home he 
asked me if I had a father, and other ques- 
tions ; then he said : “What do you do this 
hard work for ?’ I said, because I have no 
choice. I must work for my support and to 
help take care of my little brother.’ He 
said, ‘ I can tell you of a much easier way to 
earn more than you earn now.’ I asked him 


52 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


how, for I really thought he meant to be 
kind ; but all at once the kinder he grew the 
more I began to wish I had not asked. He 
said I was too young to have such a hard life, 
and that if I would let him he would dress me 
like a lady. I did not half understand until 
then ; for he added, ‘ Of course, I don’t mean I 
wiil marry you.’ I was very angry after- 
wards, but at the time I was so frightened I 
could only throw down the bundle of clothes 
that I had ready to bring away and run 
down stairs, out of the house and home, with 
my heart beating as if it would choke me. 
After that I was a waitress in a restaurant, 
and I might be there now, perhaps, but for 
one of the best women I ever knew in my 
life. She was the bookkeeper. I liked 
that place ; it was very cheerful, there was 
plenty of good food, and often I had some 
given me to bring home. A great many 
gentlemen came there, and they were very 
pleasant to me. A few clerks began to ask 


Jessie Finds a Frie 7 id. 53 

me if I would go to some place of amusement 
with them. I asked the bookkeeper if I might 
go, and she talked to me as my own mother 
might have talked. She said the restaurant 
was not a good place for a young girl, and 
then she found me the work on neck-ties 
instead. Oh, Miss Norton, if ladies who 
live so sheltered and safe knew how slippery 
a way poor girls in New York had to walk 
in, they would not wonder so much that 
some stumble into dreadful things.” 

“ I begin to realize that,” said Louise ; and 
as she watched Jessie’s sunny hair and pret- 
ty girlish grace, unspoiled yet by a conscious- 
ness of her beauty, she was almost of Miss 
Janet’s opinion that it were better for “a 
working girl,” to have “a flat nose, red hair, 
and cross-eyes.” 

“ Harry is home now,” exclaimed little 
Don, suddenly ; “he came the day we moved 
here.” 

“ Is he your brother ?” asked Louise. 


54 Miss Janet's Old House . 

u He is my own brother and Don’s half 
brother. Harry and I were born in Scotland. 
He was a very bright little boy, but father 
said he must work, and never let him go to 
school. After father died, this mother could 
not control him, and he said he would take 
care of himself. I am afraid he is a wild, bad 
fellow ; he seldom comes home. He is good 
to me, unless I ask questions about what he 
is doing. He never will tell, and he gets ugly 
then.” 

From this point the conversation turned 
on Jessie’s recollections of Scotland, and her 
earliest days in America, when she had gone 
to a school ; then Louise offered to lend her 
some good books, and by that time twilight 
had come. Mrs. McCoy had not been home 
during the call, but when Louise, guided by 
Jessie, reached the lower hall, she heard 
voices at the open outer door ; one was Mrs. 
McCoy’s, peevish and complaining ; one was 
rough and somewhat insolent. 


Jessie Finds a Friend. 55 

“ That is Harry,” said Jessie sadly. “ Mo- 
ther and he never get on well together.” 

Mrs. McCoy, perceiving Louise, became 
very meek and polite, but the boy (he was 
scarcely more than a boy) merely slunk back 
in the area and stared at her boldly, without 
removing his hat. He had rather a hand- 
some face, with great black eyes. As Louise 
passed them with a word to the woman, she 
heard him mutter, “ Who is that ? Another 
of your fine new friends ?” 


56 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER V. 

don’s question. 

TN compliance with Miss Page’s request, 
Baldwin had procured a dog for the 
McCoys. He was a medium sized New- 
foundland, not at all the sort of a creature 
Miss Janet had in mind, but a good dog, for 
all that. His bark was tremendous — whether 
he could or would bite was doubtful. Don 
loved him with all his heart, and Kaiser, as 
he was called, made the child’s dull life 
brighter. He knew many tricks, which after 
a few days’ kindness from Don he would per- 
form at the little boy’s command. They 
slept together, and Kaiser soon became a 
silent partner in the flower business. Every 


Don's Question. 


57 


day the two went together to Forty-second 
Street, where Dolly fed Kaiser, and did not 
hesitate to offer Don, apples, cake, or bread 
and butter. 

For a while after the McCoy’s entered her 
old house, Miss Page had ignored their pre- 
sence there, and shifted all responsibility in 
the matter on Baldwin’s shoulders ; but after a 
time curiosity impelled her to ask a few ques- 
tions. When she learned that Louise Nor- 
ton had taken some interest in Jessie, she 
sneeringly remarked : “ She need not think 

to curry favor with me by petting them, I 
don’t care a snap of my finger for them. I 
only use them to keep a worse crew out of 
my house.” 

She did not see any member of the family 
for a month or more, until one warm after- 
noon, when she was alone at home. Dolly 
had gone out on an errand and Baldwin was 
also away. Miss Page was at her desk read- 
ing some old letters ; she seldom received 


58 Miss Janet's Old House. 

new letters now-a-days. Suddenly she heard 
some one knocking on the basement door 
and the scratching and barking of a dog. It 
occurred to her that this was a good time to 
see the McCoy child, and at the same time 
show no interest in any of them before her 
servants ; so she went down to let in Don. 

“ Hello Dolly, ” he cried, without looking 
up, until Kaiser, instead of bounding forward 
as usual, began to sniff at Miss Janets skirts, 
not knowing her. Then with his big, blue 
eyes full of surprise and his pretty flushed 
face growing sober, Don said: “We have 
come for something to eat — Dolly keeps it 
for us.” 

“ For us : for the dog, you mean.” 

“Yes, marm.” 

“ Does she ever give you anything ?” 

“Yes, marm, most always.” 

“ What for ?” 

“ Why — she asks me am I hungry, and I 
always am,” returned Don, so artlessly that 


Don's Question . 


59 


Miss Page felt that as far as the boy was 
concerned the reason was a good one ; as to 
Dolly — she would deal with her. By this 
time Kaiser had pushed past Miss Janet into 
the kitchen, and was whining for Dolly and 
the usual refreshments. 

“ Come in !” said Miss Page, sharply, and 
Don meekly followed her, timidly balancing 
himself on the edge of a wooden chair, while 
she found the tin plate of bones which Dolly 
had left for the dog. 

“ You must not grow up a beggar,” she 
said to Don, as Kaiser devoured his food. 

“ I don’t beg. I sell flowers, and some 
days I earn more than mother — I don’t ask 
Dolly for what she gives me,” he added, 
sagely, concluding that Miss Page had that in 
her mind. 

“ If you did ask her you would be a beg- 
gar. How do you like your new house?” 

“ Oh, we think it is splendid. It belongs 
to the lady that lives up-stairs here, don’t 


60 Miss Janet's Old House . 

it?” he returned, adding: “She is Miss 
Norton’s sister, I guess ; Miss Norton is beau- 
tiful.” 

Miss Janet, perceiving that the boy thought 
her to be a servant, sat immediately down to 
catechise him. She asked him everything 
that she could think of about his mother, sis- 
ter and brother, and what they said of the 
house and its owner. She elicited nothing 
objectionable. 

When Kaiser finished his dinner, he sud- 
denly dropped on the floor, stiffened his limbs, 
and to Miss Page’s horror seemed to be life- 
less. 

“ He is only dying for fun,” laughed Don, 
in irrepressible glee ; “ he does all his tricks 
for Dolly when he gets his bones eaten.” 

“ Let me see some of them,” said Miss 
Page, curiously. 

When Kaiser danced like a clumsy bear, 
or tried to do it, she had to laugh ; when he 
“ preached ” by waving one paw and snarling. 


Dons Question . 6 1 

barking and moaning long and dolefully, she 
exclaimed: “ I would like just such a dog as 
this. I guess I will have Baldwin find you 
another.” 

“ No, you can’t have Kaiser ! He belongs 
to me. I won’t give him up.” 

“ Hoighty ! toighty, sir ! Won’t is too big 
a word for a small boy.” 

Don, who had gotten over his first awe of 
the queer little woman with such sharp black 
eyes, — Don took no notice of her reproof, but 
suddenly remarked, “ I saw a picture, a beau- 
tiful one in the room next the front door here. 
The sun shone in right on it. It had a gold 
frame around it.” 

“What was it a picture of?” 

“A beautiful young lady with long curls 
and a bunch of white lilies in her hand.” 

“That was a picture of a young lady 
whom I knew when she was young.” 

“ I like pictures. Miss Louise said I could 
learn to draw some day, perhaps.” 


62 


Miss Janet's Old House. 


“ There is a room full of beautiful pictures 
up-stairs.” 

“ I wish I could see them,” said Don, re- 
flectively. 

“ Miss Louise teaches you a great many 
things, it seems to me.” 

“ Yes, I am in her class in Mission School, 
now, but she said last Sunday that she was 
going away for all summer. I like to hear 
her talk. She goes where there is water as 
blue as the sky, and high mountains, and 
beautiful sunsets, better than any pictures, she 
says, and God made everything that is so 
beautiful, and heaven is the very best, most 
beautiful place any one could go to — ” Don 
paused for breath before he added, “ Rich 
folks don’t need to go to heaven, do they ? — 
they have beautiful things enough, I guess.” 

Miss Page was attracted, in spite of herself, 
by Don. His clothes were poor, but his 
hands were clean, and his face sweet in its 
yet unspoiled innocence. She was almost 


Doris Question . 63 

tempted to give him the ginger-cakes that 
Dolly had left in the cupboard near the dog’s 
meat, evidently for him, but she compromised 
with this generous impulse by saying : “ Lit- 
tle boy, if you won’t touch anything, I will 
show you some pictures up-stairs.” 

Don readily promised, and Miss Page 
tripped up again, followed by the boy and 
the dog, who refused to stay behind. She 
led the way to a fine room intended for a li- 
brary, but never settled. Here, some hang- 
ing at random, in good or bad lights, more 
standing on the floor with faces to the wall, 
were everywhere fine paintings and engrav- 
ings. A large, richly colored figure piece 
held Don captive for a long time. It was 
the Good Samaritan binding up the wounds 
of the man who fell among thieves on the 
Jericho road. He asked so many questions 
about it that Miss Page, for the first time in 
years, felt stirring in her a desire to tell some 
one more ignorant than herself a Gospel 


64 Miss Janet's Old House . 

truth. She searched about the room for a 
great, gorgeously bound Bible, which she 
knew must be there, and finding it in a vel- 
vet case, called Don to her. She was glad 
to remember that her servants were not home, 
and certainly Dolly would have been aston- 
ished to hear her, as seated in a great velvet 
chair, she read with the boy, and the dog on 
a rug at her feet. While she read, she had to 
explain each point, for it was like reality to 
Don, who studied with fascinated eyes the 
figures on the canvas. He discovered in the 
perspective of the picture the Levite and the 
Priest, who had both “ passed by on the other 
side,” and he must know why they had not 
helped the sufferer. 

“ Oh, they were not so very bad, only they 
did not care,” explained Miss Janet. 

The artist had given the Samaritan a noble 
mien and a rare, benignant face, full of 
“ compassion.” When the story ended, the 


Doris Question. 65 

little boy, gazing long at it, and then directly 
into the woman’s eyes, said : 

“ I would not want to be the ones who 
didn’t care — would you ? I think it is better 
to be kind — but a great many people don’t 
care.” 

She made no answer, while Don sat silently 
gazing about the room. Kaiser laid his 
great head in the child’s lap and watched 
him lovingly. Miss Janet fell into a revery 
about those people who do “ not care — ” Yes, 
the world was full of them. Who cared for 
her ? All the light and sweetness of her life 
was behind her! Nobody loved her ! All 
these rare pictures were collected to please 
the taste of dear ones whose eyes were closed 
on earth forever. Even this great Bible was 
to have been her family Bible, and she had no 
family — no near relation left. Suddenly it 
occurred to her to ask herself if she cared ! 
Was the suffering of others anything to her? 
While she was putting herself in the place 
5 


66 Miss Janet's Old House. 

of the wounded man who needed help, was 
she not toward all mankind much more like 
the Levite and the Priest? It was a start- 
ling thought, actually the first personal ques- 
tion of the kind that had entered her mind for 
years— yet Miss Janet Page was a church 
member, and called herself a Christian. 

The shutting of a door in the basement 
recalled her to the present ; and to the fact 
that Dolly had returned. Hastily rising, she 
led Don to the door, saying : 

“ Here, this time I put you out of the front 
door ; but you must never ask to come up- 
stairs again, and you must never tell Dolly 
that I brought you up to see the pictures.” 

“ Wouldn’t the lady who lives here like 
it?” 

“No; run home now” — and pushing out 
Kaiser with little ceremony, Miss Janet bolted 
her door in haste, lest Dolly should find her 
with her visitors. The dog had received his 
bones, the child had been interested, if he had 


Dons Question . 


67 


gone away hungrier than usual — and Miss 
Janet herself had received several new ideas. 
Perhaps these last would remain with her, 
for she had not much in her barren life to 
think about. 


68 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER VI. 

MISS PAGE HAS A GUEST. 

M ISS JANET PAGE had dropped out 
of what is called society, years before 
this story begins. She never invited any 
one to visit her, returned no calls, so at last 
few people ever sought her out, and fewer 
still were allowed to enter her house. She did 
not, however, entirely seclude herself, but had 
freaks of walking in out-of-the-way parts of 
the city, or of crossing the ferries and explor- 
ing neighboring towns. True, she some- 
times shut herself up for w T eeks together, 
but her usual disposition was to be exceed- 
ingly restless. A few days after Don had 
visited her she received a call from Louise 


Miss Page has a Guest . 69 

Norton, who ran in at noon for a “ good-by,” 
as she said, cheerfully. 

“ Going to Saratoga ?” asked Miss Janet, 
sourly. 

“No, I am going to a little country town 
in Vermont, where board is inexpensive and 
air, grass and scenery are free. What 
makes you stay in the hot city all summer ?” 

“ I have to look twice at a dollar before I 
give it out # for nothing. This air is good 
enough for me.” 

“ I only wish I could afford to take you 
with me, Cousin Janet. I would show you 
how to get the worth of a dollar. I don’t 
believe you begin to know its value.” 

“Well! well !” returned Miss Janet, 
“which is the greater — the impudence or 
the conceit of young people now-a-days ?” 

“ Oh, perhaps one equals the other in me,” 
laughed Louise. 

Miss Janet, as she talked, was stepping in 
her nervous way around the room, looking for 


70 Miss Janet's Old House . 

something which she had mislaid, when she 
stumbled over a footstool and hurt her 
ankle. It pained her during the remainder 
of Louise’s call, yet she refused to believe 
the hurt to be more than a strain. Dolly 
bound it up in arnica and water, so it felt 
better before the young girl went away. 

Louise intended to leave the city early the 
next day, but just about three o’clock, as she 
was packing her trunk, Baldwin came to the 
Seminary asking for Miss Norton. Louise 
hastened to meet him in the reception-room, 
where he sat with a comical expression on 
his honest face. 

“ Miss Janet had to call a doctor, and he 
found her ankle sprained. She is very much 
put out of joint in other respects. She says 
she meant to go to the seaside, and the 
White Mountains, and very likely to Canada. 
It is the first Dolly and I have heard of it, 
but she is going to be awfully uneasy, shut 
up at home.” 


Miss Page has a Guest. 71 

“ You must get her some crutches and 
have her hire a carriage and ride every 
day.” 

“ She can’t afford it, Miss Louise ; there is 
a water pipe to be mended in one of her 
tenement houses.” 

“ I am sorry for her, from the bottom of 
my heart,” said the young girl, earnestly. 

“ Sorry enough to do something for her ?” 

‘‘Yes, if I could help her or make her 
happier.” 

“Well, maybe you can. She sent me 
here to tell you that your extravagance 
worries her,” and Baldwin smiled as he went 
on ; “ she says, instead of going about wast- 
ing your money in strange hotels — ” 

“ I was going to board in a Methodist 
ministers family.” 

“ Worse yet — you might be tempted to 
give them a donation ! — Well, instead of go- 
ing anywhere, if you are inclined to come 
and spend the summer with her, you may.” 


72 Miss Janet's Old House. 

Louise was silent with dismay. She un- 
derstood how Miss Janet, accustomed to 
yield to every freak, was fretted at the 
thought of confinement. She wanted some- 
body now to talk with, to scold, to send on 
errands. No care for Louise had moved her 
in this invitation. The tempting vision of 
woods, hills and fields arose before Louise 
enticingly ; then she remembered with real 
pity the friendless, crabbed old spinster in her 
disorderly home. 

“You actually think, Mr. Baldwin, that I 
could do her any good ? I tell you frankly, 
I much prefer to go to the country.” 

“ I don’t wonder at that. Now I know 
Miss Louise that your interest in Miss Page 
is down-right unselfish. You’ve been told 
by her often enough, what I’m sure is the 
truth, that not a penny of her property will 
go to any friend, near or far. Her home can- 
not be very attractive to you, but I do be- 


Miss Page has a Guest. 


73 


lieve if you came there for a while, you might 
get her out of some of her odd kinks.” 

“ Very well, Mr. Baldwin, you can tell her 
then that I will come, bag and baggage, to- 
morrow morning.” 

Baldwin departed well pleased, and Louise 
spent her afternoon in reflection. 

When she arrived next day in Forty-second 
Street, she was secretly much amused at her 
reception. Miss Janet was determined that 
nobody should suppose that she invited 
Louise for her (Miss Janet’s own) gratifica- 
tion, but that in so doing she had rendered 
the young lady a great service and saved 
her much expense. For a few days after her 
arrival, Miss Janet asked not a favor of her, 
but bade her “amuse herself,” as if she were 
a child of ten. She allowed herself to be 
drawn into animated conversations at the ta- 
ble, but the rest of the time she was “busy ” 
in her private apartment. 

Louise, with Dolly’s help, made herself 


74 Miss Janet's Old House . 

comfortable in a hall bedroom which they for 
the first time furnished completely. When 
all was in order, Louise exclaimed, “ Dolly, 
I’m going to perform a great exploit.” 

“ What are you going to do — get mar- 
ried ?” 

“Nonsense, that is very common-place — 
just come down-stairs and I will tell you.” 

Dolly followed her down to the room where 
Miss Janet had read to Don, and the two 
stood looking around in silence for a mo- 
ment. 

“ Why has this room never been put in 
any sort of order, Dolly?” asked the young 
girl. 

“ Oh, I don’t know, unless ’twas because 
Miss Page never got ready to let me do it,” 

“ She never said it should not be done at 
all ?” 

“ No, marm, not as I remember.” 

“Well, you call Baldwin, and let us have 
some fun.” 


Miss Page has a Guest. 75 

Baldwin came, and it really was “fun” to 
see the result of this consultation. The three 
resolved to brave Miss Page’s wrath, and to 
surprise her at night. Like mischievous 
children, they ran about all day, hiding, tip- 
toeing, lest they should be heard at their 
pranks. They laid down smoothly the beau- 
tiful velvet carpet, that hitherto had been 
rolled in the corner ; they hung the fine pic- 
tures ; they arranged the furniture, and 
Louise, after hours of patient labor, filled 
every book-case with the volumes that had 
been unpacked for the first time in years. 
At six o’clock everything was finished, even 
to the exquisite bouquet on the table ; and a 
more beautiful room could scarcely have been 
found. 

Louise had just time to make a hasty toi- 
let and refresh herself a little before Dolly 
rang the dinner-bell. 

Miss Janet had found that with a crutch, 
she could get around the house very well; so 


76 Miss Janet's Old House . 

after dinner she hobbled through the hall to 
stand a moment in her open front door. 
Louise going behind her, threw wide open 
the near door into the newly furnished “ li- 
brary.” She was a little anxious over what 
might be coming, for Miss Janet had been cross 
at the table, and unusually disposed to take is- 
sue at trifles. When at last she closed the front 
door, and turned back, she almost passed the 
other door without glancing in — almost, but 
not quite. She stopped and gazed at the 
books, the flowers, the elegant chairs and 
sofas — last of all at the painting above the 
mantle : The Good Samaritan. It seemed 
to the impatient girl behind her that she 
never would move or speak. Suddenly the 
corners of her thin lips twitched, and she 
murmured: “In the other house it used to 
hang just where the sunset light struck it in 
this same way then limping to a great chair, 
she sank down in its depths ; and Louise, 
slipping into a corner, left her to a long rev- 


Miss Page has a Guest. 77 

ery, glad that Baldwin had hung the picture 
in a way to arrest her attention. 

“Can you play old music, Louise ?” she 
asked. 

“ I can play some of that in the next 
room,” replied Louise, “ I practiced a little 
yesterday.” 

“Well, there is a hymn of Keble there, I 
believe. My youngest sister used to sing it. 
The first line is : 

“ * The heart of childhood is all mirth, 

We frolic to and fro ; 

As free and blithe as if on earth 
Were no such thing as woe — * ” 

“ That is as true as the lines that follow : 

“ ‘Too surely, every setting day, 

Some lost delight we mourn ; 

The flowers all die along our way, 

Till we, too, die forlorn/ ” 

The fine piano in the next room had suffer- 
ed from neglect, but Louise was able to bring 
out of it rare, sweet tones, as with fine in- 


78 Miss Janet's Old House . 

stinct she chose certain verses from the old- 
fashioned song-selections. 

“Who but a Christian through all life 
The blessing may prolong ? 

Who through the world’s sad day of strife, 

. Still chant his morning song ? 

Nor shall dull age, as worldings say, 

The heavenward flame annoy : 

The Saviour cannot pass away, 

And with Him lives our joy.” 

The twilight shadows fell about the dingy 
garments of the sad-faced woman sitting 
alone in the beautiful room, but she listened 
to the music for an hour or more. When 
Louise came back to stay with her, she said, 
in a tone so full of something like mingled 
melancholy and gentleness, that the young 
girl was as touched as surprised: “ I don’t 
believe it — I never knew any one who did it. 

‘ Through the world’s sad day of strife, 

Still chant his morning song.’ 

“ No, the other verse is the truest: 


Miss Page has a Guest , 79 

1 The flowers all die along our way, 

Till we, too, die forlorn. ’ ” 

“You will not think, Cousin Janet, that I 
have lived long enough to prove out of my 
own experience that all life ought to get bet- 
ter and happier instead of darker ; but I have 
my own firm belief, for all that." 

“ Well, what do you believe ?” 

Louise hesitated a moment. It was not 
easy for her to tell her best thoughts to one 
who might be a very cynical listener, but she 
went on : 

“ To make the matter practical, as i want 
to make it : — Here am I with perhaps more 
than half my life before me, and I ask myself 
very often how I am going to be able to 
live the very best life morally, socially and 
intellectually that God wants me to live ; for 
don’t you think, Cousin Janet, it is we our- 
selves who are satisfied too often with living 
on a low level, and not God who wants us 
there ? Well, taking our spiritual life first, 


80 Miss Janet's Old House . 

we know its fullness consists in loving- God 
and our neighbor. We will love him better, 
if we are learning constantly more about 
Him from the teaching of his Spirit which we 
pray for — ” 

“ I never prav for any such thing,” put in 
Miss Janet. 

“ From the loving friendship of other 
Christians — ” 

“ I don’t love any particular Christians.” 

“ From all the beautiful things of which 
this world is full to overflowing.” 

“All of them are like grass that, as the 
Bible says, ‘ in the morning flourisheth, in the 
evening it is cut down and withereth.’ ” 

“ But God gives us all the good of life as it 
goes, if we will take it as it goes, and He does 
not mean it to last, for the grand reason that 
the future will be better because then come 
the ‘ things which God hath prepared for 
them that love Him. ’ ” 

Miss Page made no comment, so Louise 


Miss Page has a Guest . 81 

continued as if she were thinking aloud : “ If 
we love our Father in Heaven we come to 
love His children everywhere and to really 
long to help the most lost and wayward of 
them. Now it seems to me that if I can just 
go on looking up, knowing that, as the poem 
says : 

“ ‘You and I and all men move 
Under a canopy of love 
As broad as the blue sky above : 

That weary deserts we may tread, 

Through dark ways underground be led, 

Yet if we will one Guide obey 
The dreariest path, the darkest way 
Shall issue out in heavenly day/ 

“ It seems to me there will be a ‘ morning 
song/ in every day of our life, and that 
without putting too great stress on the other 
things which are better not to be wholly neg- 
lected." 

“What things ?” 

“Why, as I said, we are social and intel- 
lectual as well as moral beings, or we ought 

to be. I mean as I live to put myself in con- 
6 


82 


Miss Janets Old House . 


tact and in sympathy with the sweetest, the 
largest, the most cultured people I can know. 
If they can give me any help toward making 
myself lovable or attractive, I shall avail 
myself of it gratefully. On the other hand, 
what I get I want to share with others, as I 
have received. You must not think I mean 
to be a prodigy of learning, if I add that it 
is a very easy and a very wise thing to be 
learning something every day, so that when 
we get old and sit in the chimney corner, 
younger people will love to hear us talk.” 

“ Some old people sit in solitary chimney 
corners.” 

“ I always wonder if they need to be alone,” 
said Louise. 

She was well aware that every word she 
had uttered might have seemed suggestive, 
perhaps to Miss Janet impertinently sugges- 
tive. Under other circumstances her first 
impulse would have been to sympathize with 
her in this softened mood on the loss of her 


Miss Page has a Guest. 83 

early friends and her barren, lonely life. 
But while she pitied her cousin so much that 
her tone was very gentle, Louise believed 
that truth, not sympathy, was what Miss Janet 
most needed. She was a woman not yet 
old, blessed with perfect health, entire liberty 
of action, great wealth, yet she was useless, 
friendless, morbidly miserable, and very self- 
ish. She mourned only over the happy dead 
and lived in neglect of the living whom she 
had every means to help. 

“You are young; when you are older 
you will know more,” remarked Miss Page, 
coldly. 

“ And that is just my aim, as I have been 
telling you.” 

“ I understand perfectly well what you have 
been telling me,” exclaimed Miss Page, ve- 
hemently ; “ you think my life is all wrong 
and my way of living a mistake, so you tell 
me your pretty sentimental notions, and 
imagine they will touch my conscience. 


84 Miss Janet's Old House. 

You are silly to fancy that. Can you teach 
me anything about life ? I was wading 
through seas of trouble when you were play- 
ing with your rattle-box ! No — if you came 
here to win your way into my affections, to 
make me throw open my doors to all the 
world while I say to you — Come, let us enjoy 
life and spend my money like water, you 
shall be my heiress some day — ” 

“ Cousin Janet — ” broke in Louise’s voice : 
it was soft but very firm, — “ Cousin Janet, 
hear me one moment before you go on ! 
Disabuse yourself, once and forever, of the 
idea that I have any designs on your money. 
Do I proceed in the flattering fashion of one 
who is trying to ingratiate herself in your 
favor ?” 

“ What did you come for so promptly when 
I asked you this time ?” 

“ Because I hoped to make your confine- 
ment a little less tedious. I like you because 
you are queer ; and as to my opinion of your 


Miss Page has a Guest \ 85 

way of living, T will give it to you frankly any 
time. I don’t like it. I put this carpet down, 
for instance, and had this room settled be- 
cause I thought it very desolate.” 

“ The place I inhabit always is desolate,” 
returned Miss Janet, disarmed by Louise’s 
good-natured plain speaking. 

“In one respect you do not do me justice,” 
said Louise. “ I am not a child prattling of 
life. I have had sorrows. I have lost my 
mother, my father, every near relative. I 
had a home that was a little Paradise to me, 
now it has vanished off the face of the earth. 
I have not gained a place and a chance to 
earn my daily bread without worry and hard 
work. I am twenty-four years old — had not 
you learned a little about life, at that age ?” 

Miss Janet started as if from a sudden 
hurt, then with a dry laugh she retorted : 

“Twenty-four! Oh, I w T as ready to be 
married then, but it came to nothing. Why 
do you not marry, Louise ?” 


86 Miss Janet's Old House. 

It was the girl’s turn to shrink, but she 
answered bravely, “I expected to be mar- 
ried three years ago, and with me it has ‘ come 
to nothing,’ as you say.” 

The older woman expressed no surprise, 
and to the relief of the other asked no ques- 
tion. They sat a while silent, only the out- 
line of things about them visible and the room 
fragrant with the perfume of roses. Sudden- 
ly in the darkness Louise felt a tremulous 
hand rest softly on her head, and her cousin 
said kindly : 

“ Don’t mind me if I am bitter ; I can’t 
help it — I know you are a brave girl — your 
life won’t be a mistake. Go to bed now ; 
I’ll stay to enjoy your room a while. It does 
look better and I like it.” 

“Thank you,” said Louise, only staying to 
say good- night. 


Dons Late Visit. 


87 


CHAPTER VII. 
don’s late visit. 

TT7HEN it became known in the neigh- 
* * borhood that the old brown stone 
house was inhabited, great curiosity was 
shown by the old and the young. The grocer 
made bold to ask Mrs. McCoy how she 
gained a footing there, and she being always 
somewhat garrulous, told him the whole story. 
After that Miss Janet Page, her wealth, her 
eccentricities, her relations to the McCoys — 
in short, everything concerning her was a 
favorite topic of conversation in that locality. 
Little Don, who had a child’s curiosity and 
love of telling remarkable things, added 
much to the fund of gossip, for every time 


88 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


Kaiser and he went to the Forty- second 
Street house, he saw or heard something 
which greatly interested him. One time 
Dolly was cleaning silver, of which Miss 
Janet had great quantities stored away, and 
Don reported the dining-room table loaded 
down with it. He also added that there 
were elegant gold dishes and wonderful gold 
lamps, as well as silver articles ; for some old 
fashioned brass candlesticks and snuffers with 
trays, were being polished. . All this Mrs. 
McCoy chattered about to a new acquain- 
tance or two, and trouble came of it. 

Harry McCoy had reached an age when 
with a temperament like his to be idle was 
to be in mischief. He might have made an 
excellent machinist if he had been trained to 
work, but he had grown up utterly undisci- 
plined. He read only police records, sport- 
ing papers, or dime novels of the wildest 
sort, and he had no companions who were 
not worse than he himself. It is not likely 


Doris Late Visit. 


89 


he would have planned in detail any scheme 
of villainy at this stage of his life, but older 
and bolder rascals found it possible to use 
him. He loitered about home all summer, 
sleeping in the house often, eating there 
, when he could add anything to the larder. 
He was never ugly, and to Don he was 
always good-natured. As time went by the 
little boy found that Harry was interested in 
learning all about Dolly and Baldwin, about 
the house they lived in, its rooms and its 
furniture. He even asked Don to question 
Dolly about several matters, but he was 
strict in forbidding Don to ever lisp a word 
about his brother. Once or twice he accom- 
panied the child and the dog as far as the 
house, and studied its exterior very carefully. 
Not long after this a small, dark foreigner, 
known by sight to Don as a frequenter 
of a near bar-room, called to him as he 
was going home one night, and sent 
a message by him to Harry. He gave 


90 Miss Janet's Old House. 

the child some pennies, called him a “keen 
little one,” and asked how Kaiser came to 
look so fat ? When he learned where Kaiser 
boarded, he asked other questions, and it did 
not occur to the boy that the man knew sev- 
eral facts that he had not told him, and of 
which, in the nature of things, he ought to be 
ignorant. Several times after this day Don 
saw this same man, and he came to consider 
him a friend of Harry’s. 

It was Don’s usual custom when his flow- 
ers were sold late in the afternoon, to go 
first to Dolly before going home, but one 
day, about the first of August, Harry with 
two men, one of them the foreigner, passed 
his little stand in Fourteenth Street. They 
stopped near him in earnest debate. 

“ I tell you,” said Harry, talking as low as 
he could speak and be heard, “ I tell you, 
that one is as green as a leek ; I can manage 
easy. Couldn’t I know if scented any 


Doris Late Visit . 


9 1 


such thing in the air? can be shut up 

afterwards, but not before, if he guessed.” 

The men grumbled together a while, then 
one took a car, and the other followed Harry 
close to Don. 

“ Shut up shop now, and I’ll take you off 
on a lark,” said the older brother. 

“ Where ?” asked Don, as Kaiser began 
sniffing around the strangers boots. 

“ Oh, I’m going to Hoboken, to see a 
shooting match.” 

Don’s best flowers were sold ; he bestowed 
a few fresh leaves and one rose on a woman 
near by, who sold fans, then he followed 
Harry, Kaiser going as a matter of course. 
The sail on the river was beautiful, and boy- 
like, Don enjoyed the shooting match in spite 
of much profanity, drunkenness and fighting. 
These last were only too familiar to him, for 
he had passed much of his short life in the 
streets. About dark Harry took him to a 
dingy underground saloon, and they had what 


92 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


seemed to him an excellent supper, he being 
very hungry and not fastidious. At supper 
the friend joined them, and held a long, low 
talk with Harry. 

“ Come, hurry up, youngster, ” he said 
suddenly turning about to give Don a survey. 
“ I live in Albany, and I must start for there 
in an hour.” 

Don swallowed his last morsel hastily, 
wondering meanwhile what his hurrying had 
to do with this man’s movements. It might 
be that he lived in Albany, but he had cer- 
tainly been in New York all summer. As 
Don glanced at him he happened to be stand- 
ing where the strong gas-light fell on his 
hair, which, to Don’s surprise, looked red, in- 
stead of jet black as formerly. 

“I am ready to go,” said Harry, and the 
three went together to the ferry. The man, 
whom Harry called “ Van,” crossed over on 
the boat with them, but after a whispered 
consultation he left Don’s brother, who turn- 


Don's Late Visit . 


93 


ed then to the little boy, saying, “ I have got 
an errand up town, and you may go with me.” 

Don followed him into a car, thinking it 
rather fine to be riding about in this fashion. 
When Harry had gone as far as a certain 
point, they got out and walked awhile, until, 
to Don’s surprise, they found themselves in 
Forty-second Street. Here, only a few steps 
from Miss Page’s house, Harry entered a sa- 
loon, leaving Don to wait outside. The little 
boy amused himself by peeping through a 
crack in a window shade, for this was rather 
a stylish resort, kept very quiet and secluded. 

When Harry came out, Don exclaimed : 
“ Why, wasn’t that man in there ? ” 

“ Nonsense, you little fool ! Didn’t you 
just leave him two miles down town ? ” asked 
Harry, sharply. 

“Yes — but a man’s back in there looked 
like his.” 

“ I reckon he has taken his back along 
with him, where he has gone. Now Don, 


94 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


as long as you are right here, you better go 
in and tell Dolly, as you call her, why you 
did not come this afternoon with Kaiser. 
The dog is hungry now, and maybe she’ll 
give him a bone ; it isn’t nine o’clock yet. 
She does not shut up until ten, you say.” 

“ No, I said that she went up-stairs for the 
night at half-past nine; I heard her say so,” 

“Yes — well, I hope you have learned to 
shut the door behind you when you come 
out every day, and don’t make her leave her 
kitchen work to follow you.” 

“ Of course,” said Don, “ the door locks 
itself when shut.” 

“ It is a long hall that leads to the kitchen, 
isn’t it, and the first door to the left you say 
goes into the old dining-room ? ” 

“ No, the door to the left is just into a lit- 
tle closet, where sh£ keeps baskets and tools 
and her rag-bag.” 

“ Well, I don’t buy her rags, so I don’t 
care,” said Harry, carelessly. 


Doris Late Visit. 


95 


They were at the area gate by this time, 
and Don went in and rang the bell, while 
Harry strolled along, saying: “I’ll wait for 
you on the corner.” 

Dolly answered the bell, and expressed 
decided disapproval at seeing her visitor at 
that late hour. Nevertheless she let Don in, 
for Kaiser had plunged ahead toward the 
kitchen. Miss Page never allowed the gas 
to be lighted in the lower hall on ordinary 
occasions ; she was sure that Dolly could see 
well enough from the light in the kitchen, so 
almost in darkness, Don stumbled after her, 
making excuses for his arrival as best he 
could. Dolly fed the dog hurriedly, gave 
Don something to eat, and went on mixing 
bread, an operation in which he had inter- 
rupted her. 

“ Run along home, now,” she remarked, 
when the boy and dog ceased eating. “ Shut 
the door fast behind you, and never again 
come so late.” 


96 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


Don arose very meekly, whistled to Kaiser, 
said “ good night,” and pattered through the 
long, dark hall. As he slipped back the 
spring, and opened the outer door, he came 
near falling, for either Kaiser ran between 
his legs, or some one pushed him. Indeed 
in his bewilderment he was sure just for an 
instant that somebody darted past him ; but 
Harry’s voice sounded in his ear, as laughing 
low, he said: “What are you pitching about 
so for ? Did Kaiser trip you up ? ” 

“ Why ! How ! Did you pop in and out 
again ?” 

What are you talking about ! Shut the 
door I” And shutting it for him, with a loud 
snap, Harry, started briskly down the street. 

“ How funny ! Why it did seem for cer- 
tain Harry, that you jumped right past me in 
the door.” 

“ It was Kaiser,” returned Harry, coolly. 

The little boy concluded that his brother 
was right, and they walked on in silence ; but 


Dons Late Visit. 


97 


at the next block Harry said : “Trot along 
home now, I had forgotten I wanted to see a 
fellow in a stable near here.” 

Don said, “All right,” and reaching Third 
Avenue, he turned down the brightly lighted 
thoroughfare, with Kaiser at his heels. A 
moment after Harry called him back to ask : 
“ Did you tell Dolly where you had been 
with me — or that I was waiting for you ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Very well. Now see here, Don, don’t 
you tell anybody, even Jessie, a word of 
where I took you, or tell that you saw me 
anywhere to-day. Will you remember ? If 
you tell, you will make trouble, and get put 
out of that house you live in !” 

Nothing could have seemed more dreadful 
to Don than the prospect of leaving the old 
house which he found so delightful. To 
leave it would, perhaps, be to lose sight of Miss 
Louise, to have to give up Kaiser and all the 
new interests of his life. He was a credu- 
7 


Miss Janets Old House. 


lous, guileless child, and so promised secrecy. 
Wondering why it was enjoined on him, he 
yet suspected no wrong. 

Indeed, Miss Page would have been sur- 
prised and perhaps pleased to have known 
how much Don liked her old house. The 
part inhabited seemed cheerful, even very 
fine to him, and he wandered about the dim, 
silent halls and the cool, empty rooms, fasci- 
nated by their half light. Behind the house 
was a little yard shut in by high brick walls. 
Long ago vines had been trained on these 
walls and still grew there luxuriantly. The 
grass kept crisp and green in the perpetual 
shade ; and overlooking this yard was a 
piazza, half inclosed with green lattice work. 
Here, every Sunday afternoon, might have 
been found a busy little school, very infor- 
mal, but in Don’s opinion, very interesting. 
When Miss Louise found that her summer 
was to be spent in the city, and that an 
excellent teacher had taken her place in the 


Dons Late Visit 


99 


mission-school where she had been working, 
she took Don as her assistant in starting a 
work in the neighborhood of Miss Janets old 
house. He collected between twenty and 
thirty boys and girls, who came together 
every Sunday to sing, to hear Louise talk or 
read, and to learn Bible verses from gay 
cards. Miss Janet may have had an idea of 
this enterprise, but she showed no interest in 
it at the time. 

But to return to Don and his brother. 
The little boy hastening home that night, 
found the family going to bed, and no one 
asked him from whence he came or where he 
had been. Harry McCoy, when Don left 
him, wheeled about and retraced his steps. 
He lingered a half hour in a saloon, but a 
little after ten he passed Miss Page’s house 
again, going on until he came to the park 
behind the Reservoir. Here seated on a 
bench in the warm darkness, he waited — for 
what ? He was going that night to become 


ioo Miss Janet's Old House. 

the tool of two of the keenest rogues outside 
the Penitentiary. He had slipped easily in- 
to their hands after a chance acquaintance, 
and had lent himself to them without thought. 
They knew what they risked ; they would 
stop at no crime if it were a question of es- 
cape or capture. He was a wild, bad boy, 
but it was as a boy he was thinking and act- 
ing. 

“Van,” was a smooth talking villain, a 
Nihilist, had he known enough to adopt the 
name. He had made it clear to Harry that the 
rich had no more right to the wealth they en- 
joyed than had the poor who were deprived of 
this wealth. Here was this “ half crazy old 
maid,” who did not even herself enjoy the 
money she hoarded. The' silver that she let 
rust in her house might much better be 
melted and put into circulation. If she were 
relieved of as much of heip superfluous pos- 
sessions as a burglar or two could carry away, 
she would be none the worse off. So Van 


Don's Late Visit. 


IOI 


had talked and Harry had listened. There 
had been something rather exciting in get- 
ting from little Don the whole “lay of the 
land/' and in seeing Van so quick to put one 
thing with another. Still it was rather start- 
ling when one day he reported that Baldwin 
had gone to Connecticut for three days — 
rather startling to find Van’s plan ready for 
immediate execution. This night, as he sat 
here alone, he reflected, with something not 
unlike surprise, at his own act ; that he had 
let Van into Miss Janet’s house, where he 
was this moment concealed with such tools 
and probably such weapons as he saw fit to 
carry. At twelve o’clock precisely, he would 
let in Harry himself at the basement door. 
The third accomplice was to watch outside 
the house with a horse and conveyance, ac- 
cessible when needed. Nothing “neater,” 
could be imagined, or so Harry said to him- 
self. What was he doing it for? Not so 
much for gain, as for lawlessness and love of 


102 Miss Janet's Old House. 

adventure. He did not propose to follow 
the career of a burglar. No, there had come 
to him a strange impulse ; with his share of 
this night’s exploit, he planned to leave 
America. It seemed to him he could well 
and pleasantly remember Scotland, and he 
half fancied that if he were to return there 
he could start anew, and make something of 
himself. 

Meanwhile, time passed, and the more re- 
spectable loiterers in the Park slipped away. 
The streets were quieter. The cars that 
passed were full of passengers, as they would 
be for hours yet, but about the Park there 
was so little going and coming that the po- 
liceman would soon order him to move on. 
Knowing this, he arose, shook himself and 
sauntered away. 


One Night's Work. 


103 


CHAPTER VIII. 

ONE NIGHT’S WORK. 

TV /T ISS PAGE, since spraining her ankle, 
had slept on the first floor above the 
basement. Miss Louise’s room was in the 
next story, and the other members of the 
family were still higher. Now before mid- 
night, on the night of the proposed burglary, 
each person in the house had retired and was 
soundly sleeping. Miss Janet heard no one 
stepping lightly about in the region below 
her, no one creeping up the stairs 

Sideboards and closets were easily ran- 
sacked. Intense was the disgust of Van to 
find not the u worth of a silver thimble,” as 
he muttered, with an oath. But there must 
be valuables in the house somewhere between 


104 Miss Janet's Old Hotise. 

coal hole and attic, and these the robbers 
were bound to find. Success began to 
reward them at last. In a large room on the 
second floor was an old solid silver tea ser- 
vice, and there were also quantities of spoons, 
forks, ladles and a pitcher a hundred years 
old, the pride of Miss Page’s heart, although it 
had not been used for a quarter of a century. 
All these were noiselessly removed ; then 
trunks were overhauled and their contents 
scattered right and left, but very little taken. 
The once costly furs, the rich silks and sat- 
ins kept so carefully were not sufficiently 
marketable now to make it wise to steal 
them. 

“ Wherever the old woman generally sleeps 
she probably keeps her diamonds,” whisper- 
ed Van ; “ she has plenty, I’ll warrant ! Such 
scarecrows always have,” and profanely com- 
menting on this house with no room furnish- 
ed enough to give a clew even to a robber 
as to its use, Van slipped up to Louise’s door 


One Night's Work. 105 

and tried ft. For the first time she had 
neglected to lock it, and he entered the little 
room like a shadow. He turned his light 
first here, then there, hearing the sleeper’s 
regular breathing, as he found no diamonds 
or jewels on her dressing-table — no diamonds 
even in her ears or on her hand, resting 
softly on the coverlet. Only a plain gold ring 
there, not worth any risk. With her purse, 
containing a few dollars, he passed out again, 
leaving her one treasure, her mother’s watch, 
safe under the young girl’s pillow. All the 
skillful part of this enterprise Van had taken on 
himself. He could not trust Harry ; he want- 
ed nothing of him but to watch, to help as 
directed — to be caught if any one must be 
caught It was Van therefore who crept 
into Miss Page’s room and searched it in 
vain for money or diamonds — Van who stood 
over her the instant she stirred and opened 
her eyes. She comprehended almost in that 
second what it all meant, when the sickening 


106 Miss Janets Old House . 

odor of chloroform came near enough 
to her nostrils to oppress her, when 
she saw a masked man bending low, felt a 
strong hand on her throat, and heard the low 
voice that ordered her to tell “ quick,” where 
she kept her money and her valuables. She 
dared not scream, with those tight-clasped 
fingers at her throat. She gasped out the 
assurance that she kept no money in the 
house — then the cloth saturated with chloro- 
form half stifled her. 

Harry McCoy, left in the basement, would 
not remain there. He said to himself that 
Van meant to secure all the spoils, and to 
claim later some most unequal share of them. 
He too crept along up-stairs in the faint light 
of the one gas-burner left lit in the main hall. 
Pie passed Miss Page’s room and the next, 
stealing softly up to the floor where Baldwin 
slept. Don had been right in telling him of 
Baldwin’s trip to Connecticut, but he had ne- 
glected to report his unexpected return, if he 


One Nights Work . 107 

knew of that fact. The first flights of stairs 
were carpeted, and Harry’s steps were noise- 
less. This last staircase was uncovered, and 
even his shoeless feet made the boards give 
out creaks. In terror, Harry stood motion- 
less until he heard Dolly snoring, as only a 
fat, sound-lunged, tired cook can snore. 
Surely there could be no danger here, for only 
Dolly slept on this floor, now Baldwin was 
absent. In any other house no robber would 
have expected to find treasures so high, but 
it would be like Miss Page to hide them here, 
where Baldwin could keep guard. While 
Harry heard Dolly snore through her closed 
door, Baldwin, who had left his door open, it 
being a warm night — Baldwin awoke, hearing 
something, he could not tell what. Was 
there a stealthy step outside his door? Did 
the boards creak in that mysterious way they 
have at night ? Baldwin hated mysteries. 
He leaped to his feet, darted out into the hall, 
and dashed into a man’s arms ! It was too 


108 Miss Janet's Old House. 

late for a light, too late to think that the in- 
truder might be armed — they grappled one 
another, scarcely knowing why. To escape, 
Harry must free himself from Baldwin, and 
the latter was neither feeble nor cowardly. 
It seemed only a moment — less than a mo- 
ment, for Dolly’s snores did not cease even 
while the two struggled fiercely together. 
They were near the head of the stairs, their 
bodies coming constantly with full force 
against the stair railing. Suddenly the 
younger wrestler gave one tremendous jerk 
away from his fellow — there was a loud crack 
of breaking woodwork, a scream ! Baldwin 
tottered back — his antagonist was gone ! 
He- could hear a heavy body falling, dashing 
once against some opposing point — falling 
again — then a dull thud far below, as it rested 
somewhere ! 

As Baldwin ran down, and before he 
could reach the gas to turn it up in the hall, 
he saw a light dart from Miss Pages room ; 


One Night's Work. 109^ 

it seemed to go in a flash down and out. 
Loud groans guided him to the spot where, 
in the hall, now full of light, he found, like 
a crushed worm, the body of a young 
man. His groans were becoming moans, 
and Baldwin believed him to be dying. 
Louise and Dolly, aroused by the breaking 
of the baluster, came in a moment, hurrying 
down, and for the next ten minutes there 
was intense excitement. Dolly called the 
police, and Louise found Miss Page not quite 
unconscious, yet stupid from the effect of the 
chloroform. It was soon evident that the 
house had been ransacked, and that the bur- 
glars, if there were several, had made their 
escape, securing their booty and leaving their 
unfortunate companion behind. 

What had been stolen was not at once to 
be known, and little or no thought was given 
to the matter, even by Miss Janet, when she 
was able to realize the meaning of the excite- 
ment. The young man had been stretched 


no Miss Janet's Old House . 

out on the hall carpet. Baldwin with the 
policeman had tried to lift him, but his groans 
were so agonizing, they desisted, until Dolly 
had called in a young doctor living next 
door ; and before he came Miss Page ex- 
claimed : “ If he groans again like that, he 
shall not be stirred from this house, for bur- 
glar or not, he is human.’' 

Louise, who tried to keep her nerves in 
subjection, had not yet been able to look at the 
poor fellow, but hearing Baldwin say that he 
was unconscious, she drew near as the moan- 
ing ceased. The moment she saw the 
masses of dark hair, and the handsome regu- 
lar features, she exclaimed: “Why Baldwin ! 
Don’t you know who it is ? Is it not that 
McCoy boy ? He is nothing but a boy.” 

“ I never saw the fellow — but you don’t 
say this is a McCoy ?” he cried, in surprise 
and horror. 

She was sure ; yet before she could reply, 
the doctor, another policeman and a neigh- 


One Night's Work . 1 1 1 

bor came. The women shivering with excite- 
ment, drew back into the next room, and 
waited to know if the young man was fatally 
hurt. Baldwin came to them after awhile, 
saying that he would probably die, but the 
doctor could not yet tell the extent of his in- 
ternal injuries. Both his legs were broken 
and his back badly hurt. The policeman 
now proposed to move him to the hospital, 
but he would undoubtedly die on the way. 

“ He shall not be stirred from this house,” 
cried Miss Page. “ Bring down a soft mat- 
tress and have him moved into this front par- 
lor, if he can be moved at all. If that young 
doctor knows enough to see to him, it is all 
right ; but the police had better send some 
one else.” 

Miss Page had a defiant tone, as if she fear- 
ed the law would snatch the offender away 
from her ; but none objected to her plan. 
The oldest policeman grimly said : “ If he 

escapes, it will be into the next world.” 


1 12 Miss Janet's Old House. 

That was a strange night. If the robbery 
itself and the flight of the other burglars oc- 
cupied any one’s attention, it was the affair of 
the police and was not first in the minds of 
the family. When all that could be done for 
the injured man was done, and he had been 
carried unconscious into the parlor, Baldwin 
reported to Louise that she was right ; from a 
paper in his pocket they knew that he was 
Harry McCoy. 

Contrary to the doctor’s expectation he 
lived through the night, and after daylight he 
opened his eyes, staring'long at Baldwin, who 
leaned over him to catch anything he might 
say. Gradually a look of intelligence came 
into his dull eyes, and he muttered : “ Fell, 
didn’t I?” 

Baldwin nodded assent. 

“ A bad job ; if I am going to die — send 
for Jessie McCoy — you know — she’s my sis- 
ter.” 

“ Yes, I’ll get her here soon.” 


One Nights Work . 113 

“ Don had nothing to do with this or none 
of ’em — do you understand that ? — nobody 
in the family knew — ” And gasping from the 
effort, Harry fainted. 

A little later word was sent to the old 
house, and soon Jessie appeared at the base- 
ment door with Don. Her face was color- 
less, and she could scarcely speak. Dolly 
drew her almost by force into the kitchen, and 
putting a cup of hot coffee to her lips made 
her drink it ; then the good woman went to 
call “ Miss Louise,” saying : “ Do you come 

and tell her about it. It seems the police 
went right to the old house, searched it, and 
asked all sorts of questions last night, but 
told them nothing clearly. She knew Harry 
was hurt, but not how or where. You talk to 
her, if you know how.” 

Louise, if she did not talk much when she 
came, knew how to be very kind and pitiful. 
While Dolly gave Don a tempting breakfast, 

she led Jessie up-stairs, and at her request 
8 


1 14 Miss Janet's Old House . 

went with her to Harry’s side. The poor sis- 
ter took his hand, big and rough, but now so 
limp ; she held it with the tears chasing down 
her cheeks, but she could not speak. 

“I’m sorry for you, Jess,” he muttered. 
“The McCoys were all honest before me, 
but I’m going under, and I guess they won’t 
throw it in your face. It was the first time.” 

Jessie could only sob and quiver like a leaf 
in the wind. Suddenly Miss Janet limped 
across the room, and stood by them, say- 
ing: 

“Jessie, your brother was breaking into my 
house, but the Lord has taken his punish- 
ment out of everybody’s else hands. I am 
sorry for him, and for you, from the bottom 
of my heart. What he has done, or been, 
shall never be visited on you. You must 
stay here with him as long as he lives.” 

“ How long am I going to live?” gasped 
the young fellow, turning his great eyes slow- 
ly toward Miss Janet. Just then Baldwin 


One Night's Work . 1 1 5 

came with something in a cup, and carefully 
lifting his head, gave him the contents. 

“ Why didn’t you kick me into the street 
to die, or tumble me out to the police ? ” he 
asked, with actual curiosity in his feeble 
voice. 

“ Because you were in agony of body,” 
said Louise, coming nearer, '‘and because in 
your poor, crushed body you have a soul.” — 
She hesitated a moment before she went on. 
“You ask how long you will live ; we don’t 
know, perhaps only a little while ; but won’t 
you take this time to think of Jesus Christ, 
who died on the cross for sinners ? Remem- 
ber that on that cross he forgave a dying 
thief — that is just what you are — because 
that thief looked to Him, and begged His 
mercy. You can pray, ‘ Lord, be merciful to 
me a sinner.’ If you do it honestly, He is 
able and willing to save your soul.” 

Every word Louise spoke had been slowly, 
clearly uttered, and Harry listened. They 


1 1 6 M iss Janet's Old House. 

thought he did not comprehend, however, for 
a strange look crossed his face, and rested 
there, until turning his eyes toward Jessie he 
said : “ I sat by our mother once in the old 
kirk in Scotland. I was younger than Don, 
but I remember the man read that about the 
thief.” 

“ You better let him rest now,” said Bald- 
win, and so they went away ; but Jessie was 
very grateful to hear Miss Page say, that 
she need not leave the house while Harry 
lived. 

He did not die that day, but part of the 
time he was in a stupor, and when aroused 
out of it, his mind wandered. He was not 
able to answer, or to understand many ques- 
tions put to him by the officers of the law, 
but from the story told by Don, the police 
were put at once on the track of Van ; they 
failed, however, to find him, then, or ever 
after, in any of his accustomed haunts. 

As Miss Janet sat with the two girls later 


One Night's Work. 


ii 7 


in the day, she forgot Jessie’s presence, and 
exclaimed : “ He is not of age yet — what a 
pity — a strong, splendidly developed body ; 
he does not look dull either. Under some 
circumstances he might have made a man 
worth something. I suppose the city is full 
of boys just like him.” 

“ He was not so bad as you think,” broke 
in Jessie, sobbing anew. “ He did not have 
much to help him, and everybody was willing 
to teach him something wicked. He told 
me Sunday, that he did not know but one 
person in the world who ever talked to him 
about making a good man of himself, or 
urged him to go to some honest work. He 
was always kind to me and to little Don. I 
can remember those times he talked of — 
away back in Scotland ; mother used to say 
he would be everything good, and a comfort 
to her when she was old — if she had only 
lived.” 

Miss Page grew sharp in self-defence, 


1 1 8 Miss Janet's Old House. 

sometimes. Jessie’s lament made her un- 
comfortable, and she said, almost coldly : 
“ After all, there is every help nowadays to a 
boy who wants to make a man of himself ; 
free schools, free churches, reading-rooms, 
and good people always ready to lend a 
hand.” 

'‘Yes, I suppose so,” said Jessie sadly, 
“ only the good people lend the hand some- 
times when it is too late.” 

She meant no reproach, but Miss Janet re- 
ceived a new idea, as the girl went on : 
“You see we children of poor people can’t 
always be fed and clothed to go to schools : 
and boys like Harry, if they haven’t much 
education, find cheap theatres livelier than 
reading-rooms, and so they don’t see the use 
of growing up honest and industrious until 
the time to become so has slipped away from 
them. I don’t suppose any one is to blame.” 

“ No, of course not; we all stand or fall by 
ourselves in this world,” returned Miss Page, 


One Night's Work. 119 

sternly. She was leaning back in her chair, 
when glancing up, her eyes caught the sun- 
light streaming, as often at this hour, over 
the Good Samaritan. Lately, whenever she 
looked at this picture, she did not see the 
prominent figures. The indifferent Levite 
disappearing in the distance, always claimed 
her attention, and invariably she heard Don’s 
artless comment : “ I would not like to have 
been the ones who did not care, would you ? 
But a great many people don’t care !” 

It occurred to Miss Page that the words 
she had just uttered were in the mind not of 
the Samaritan, whom Christians call “ good,” 
but without a doubt it was the Levite, who 
argued, “ We all stand or fall by ourselves in 
this world.” 

They were sitting in silence when Bald- 
win came in to say that Harry seemed bright- 
er than at any other time before, and was 
suffering less. 

“ You go in and sit by him,” he said to 


120 Miss Janet's Old House . 

Jessie, “ but don’t let him talk. He wants to 
see a man whom he has heard talk in a Mis- 
sion down town. He has told me enough 
about him, so I guess I can find him. I’m 
going to try, anyway. He knows he must 
die, and he knows he is not ready ; he has 
faith, for some reason, in this man’s words, 
and in his help.” 

“ I know whom he means,” said Jessie, be- 
fore she went to her brother. “ He is a young 
man, and if he is a minister, he seems differ- 
ent from others ; he knows all about the city, 
and how to make men and boys listen to 
him.” 

When Baldwin and Jessie had left the 
room, Miss Page turned suddenly to Louise, 
and asked : “ Where do you go Sunday af- 
ternoons ?” 

Louise replied that she taught in the B — 
Street Sunday-school two-thirds of the year. 

“ But now, this summer,” persisted Miss 
Page, and she continued to question Louise 


One Night's Work. 


I 2 I 


until she learned about her school on the pi- 
azza of the old house. 

It was nearly dark when Baldwin returned 
with a gentleman, whom he led directly to 
Harry’s side. Louise had gone to her room, 
but Miss Page, through the open door, could 
hear, even across the hall, much of the con- 
versation which followed. In the fewest, 
clearest words that he could use, the new 
comer tried to hold up before Harry, Jesus 
Christ as the Saviour of all men. He drew 
from the boy the confession that he was a sin- 
ner, that he was afraid to meet his God, and 
that he would gladly lay hold on any hope, or 
faith, that could be made intelligible to him. 
When he began to talk with Harry, Miss 
Page had thought to herself: “It is too 
late ; after a wasted life, what will be accom- 
plished by a death-bed repentance but, as 
she listened, she found herself believing that 
repentance is repentance, whether it comes 
early o* late. 


122 Miss Janet's Old House . 

When by-and-by she heard the poor pro- 
digal’s earnest tones, as he prayed aloud : 

“ O God, be merciful to me a sinner, for 
Christ’s sake pardon all my past — ” her 
eyes filled with tears, and she whispered, 
“ Amen.” 

A little later Baldwin crossed the hall, and 
coming to Miss Page, whispered : 

“ Do you wish to speak to him before he 
goes ? He is a minister, a splendid fellow, I 
think — his name is Flemming.” 

“ Yes, when he comes out I will speak to 
him in the hall. I suppose it is only civil to 
do it,” returned Miss Page, rising. 

A moment after, Mr. Flemming bade 
Harry a quiet and a very solemn farewell ; 
then he stopped for a conversation with Miss 
Page on the boy’s family and all the circum- 
stances of the case. They were standing at 
the foot of the stairs talking when Louise 
Norton came down. Lack of sleep and sub- 
sequent excitement had brought a^flush to 


One Night' s Work . 


123 


her cheeks, her soft brown hair was a little 
rumpled, and seeing a stranger, she would 
have retreated, but Miss Page exclaimed : 

“ Louise, you know all about the family, 
and can tell — Miss Norton — Mr. Flemming, 
the minister who has been a good friend to 
the poor fellow.” 

What there was in this introduction to 
send every particle of color out of Louise’s 
face and make the brief after interview so 
very incoherent, Miss Page was at a loss to 
understand. In a moment or two, however, 
the gentleman had gone, and Louise, hastily 
turning, had fled back to her own room, leav- 
ing Miss Janet more puzzled, wearied and 
interested in lives outside of herself than she 
had been for days — yes, for years. 

Well, by-and-by the night came. The 
night that settled dark over the great city 
full of meeting human life ! The night of 
death, that ended the brief and unprofitable 
life of Harry McCoy. Up to his last breath 


124 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


he was conscious, and before it his prayers 
were constant and apparently heartfelt. He 
begged his stepmother, who was present, to 
make Don grow up a good man, and he died 
holding poor Jessies hand. 


A Sunday to be Remembered, 125 


CHAPTER IX. 

A SUNDAY TO BE REMEMBERED. 

r I ^HE weeks of the summer had gone ra- 
pidly by. Miss Page’s ankle was now as 
strong as ever, and the time drew near when 
Louise must leave her to return to her school 
duties. She expressed no regret at this 
prospect of losing her guest, and Louise 
often wondered if her visit had been of any 
pleasure or profit to Miss Page. True, she 
had made some changes in the house ; it 
looked more like a home, and less like a 
store-house ; but after all Louise had most 
satisfaction in something connected with the 
old house. There her Sunday afternoon 
work had enlarged greatly. The children 
now half filled the back parlor, and little by 


12 6 Miss Janet's Old House. 

little their mothers had fallen into the habit 
of coming. It was so easy for a mother to 
pick up her baby, throw a shawl over her 
old dress and run in to listen to the singing, 
which Louise took care should be attractive. 
Then there was no formality about the exer- 
cises ; if she read she also talked, asked ques- 
tions, related anecdotes, and adapted all her 
teaching to the dull hearers. She had at 
first only intended to continue these exer- 
cises through the summer ; but when they 
became so interesting, and the women and 
children began to talk of ‘ our ’ meetings, she 
hesitated to end all with the end of her own 
vacation. One Sunday afternoon, just before 
leaving Miss Page, she said : 

“ If there could be found some city mis- 
sionary, or other worker, to carry on and 
enlarge the work, would you let it go on all 
winter, in your house ?” 

“As soon as cold weather comes those 
rooms will be as uncomfortable as a barn.” 


A Sunday to be Remembered. 127 

“ I suppose so, but there might be some 
way of warming them.” 

“ I don’t intend to establish a church any- 
where ; there are plenty of free chapels in 
that part of the town.” Miss Page’s words 
were colder than her tone, and soon she add- 
ed: “No doubt some pious busy bodies 
would go on with the thing if you gave it over 
to a society.” 

“ I would rather have a person than a 
society at work there.” 

“ By the way, Louise, there is that Mr. 
Flemming ; perhaps he would be interested. 
You had met him before, had you not?” 

“Yes — but he had a church of his own, 
when I knew him,” replied Louise, hastily 
rising to prepare for her walk. 

She went to her room, and was much sur- 
prised on coming down-stairs to find her 
cousin standing at the door, having on her 
bonnet and shawl. 

“ Sunday is such a long, wearisome day to 


128 Miss Janet's Old House . 

me, I am going with you,” was her only 
remark. 

It was a beautiful day in September, and 
the streets were full of elegantly dressed 
people ; at least this was true of one part of 
the city, but when they turned towards their 
destination the scene changed. The occu- 
pants of the swarming tenement houses 
jostled them at every step, the gutters were 
full of children, and many were the drunken 
men slipping out of the closed (?) bar-rooms. 
Getting near her old home, Miss Page 
noticed that women and children greeted her 
companion smilingly, and many prepared to 
follow them. 

“ I have a circle of warm friends about 
here,” said Louise, “ and some of them I fear 
are very disreputable ; by no means could 
they be said to belong to the ‘ good society/ 
of New York.” 

“And to think,” said Miss Page, turning 
her sharp eyes toward a pawnbroker’s win- 


A Sunday to be Remembered. 129 

dow — “only to think of the grand parties 
that have been held in that very house across 
there when the Van Renssaeller’s lived there 
in my day.” 

The plaintive tone in which Miss Page 
spoke the last words, made Louise look 
down on her in sudden pity. Did the little 
spinster feel that all her life was far behind 
her, all its good, its freshness gone? Invol- 
untarily she spoke out her own thought : 

“ If changes come to some things does it 
not make you glad, to think that the things 
God always gives us and those he has most 
to do with, are always the same ?” 

“What things ?” 

“ Beautiful things — this blue sky to-day, 
for instance, is as exquisite as the sky a 
thousand years ago; flowers, Springs — every- 
thing in nature ; but best of all it is true of 
spiritual things, for as the Bible says over 
and over : * His mercy endureth for ever/ ” 

When they entered the house, they found 
9 


130 Miss Janet's Old House. 

a little audience already assembled. All 
sorts of contrivances for seats had been 
brought together in the old parlor, and in the 
most comfortable sat the mothers. The 
children nestled anywhere in corners. Miss 
Page’s arrival made no sensation. Only the 
McCoy’s knew her by sight. The others 
glanced at her dull old shawl, and the fact 
that it was of camel’s hair escaped them. 
They judged by the rest of her attire that 
she was some “ shabby genteel,” seamstress 
perhaps — certainly no relation to their bright 
and lovely Miss Norton. Little Don hasten- 
ed to find her a chair. Kaiser came and 
stood by her side, as if to show her due at- 
tention, then they began, old and young, to 
sing: 

“ Saviour, like a shepherd lead us, 

Much we need thy tender care.’’ 

After singing a hymn, Louise would talk 
of it, connect it with some Bible truth, per- 
haps tell a simple story from real life, and 


A Sunday to be Remembered. 13 1 

then they would sing again. The leading 
thought this day, was the Good Shepherd. 
Some of them heard for the first time the 
parable of the Lost Sheep, some for the first 
time pondered on the truth that there was 
one who loved them. Near Miss Page sat a 
pale woman, whose face was more thoughtful 
than her neighbors. She glanced at Miss 
Pages gray hair once, than back at Louises 
sweet face, remarking : 

“ It is a new comforting way of looking at 

it, Miss , this thinking the Lord loves us, 

and cares what road we go, ’specially if it’s a 
rough one. I was brought up religious, but 
I married when very young a man that didn’t 
like good things ; I’ve lost six children ; every 
one died just as it got to be a comfort to me. 
Most always it’s been hard livin’ ! Some- 
times I could think I loved religion — then 
again I’d be so tired I’d think, what is the 
use ? But it would always be easy like, Miss, 


132 Miss Janet's Old House . 

to love our Saviour, if we’d sense it that He 
loved us all the time.” 

The tears stood in Louise’s eyes as she 
replied : 

“Yes ; that is a blessed thing to remem- 
ber ; now let us sing the ‘Ninety and Nine.’ 

While she was teaching it to them, she 
saw Miss Page go quietly out, and she re- 
mained away until the meeting ended. 

A spirit of restlessness possessed Miss 
Janet this day. She felt like a person in a 
dream. While she had made one in the 
little audience, what varied thoughts filled her 
mind ! One moment she was studying the 
haggard face of some woman in rags and 
tatters, trying to fancy what life meant to her. 
The next she was reflecting that just in that 
corner where the red- headed boy was now 
furtively teasing his little hunchbacked sister 
— on that spot she had stood one morning, 
years ago, trying on before a long mirror a 
robe of white satin seeded with pearls. It 


A Sunday to be Remembered . 133 

was to have been her bridal robe — and it 
was this very moment in this very house. 
She began to wonder how it would look to 
her, after all these years. Moth-eaten and 
mildewed, of course — what was this they 
were singing so sweetly in her ears ? 

“O! that beautiful city, 

With its mansions of light, 

With its glorified beings 
In pure garments of white, 

Where no evil thing cometh 
To despoil what is fair, 

Where the angels are watching, 

Is — my name written there ?” 

A little while after this it was that Miss 
Janet slipped out of the old parlor and crept 
up the stairway, past all the other doors, until 
she came to one she had not entered in 
twenty-seven years. Yet she had the key 
with her, she always carried it. Her face 
grew paler, her hand trembled, but turning 
the key’ in the lock, she pushed back the 
creaking door and entered, shutting it quick- 
ly behind her. 


134 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


In the pale afternoon light she stood mo- 
tionless until she had seen all, the gray dust 
on the faded silk chairs, the stained window 
hangings, the carpet out of which all rich col- 
ors had gone where the sunshine of uncount- 
ed days had fallen through shutters always 
aslant at the same angle. O, it was a strange, 
dreary room ! She stole across it like a 
spirit and gazed in the blurred mirror. It re- 
flected pinched features, white locks, and eyes 
sharp and unquiet — but in that same mirror 
this same face had beamed ros}', beautiful 
and young one June day. It was long past 
June now. 

There was a large closet near by, and when 
she opened it a rat ran out. She wondered if 
he fed on dust, for there seemed only that 
and mould covering every article she touched. 
She lifted the lid of a trunk and looked in — 
it was empty, save for a handful of old lace, a 
few old trinkets and artificial flowers. What 
moth and mould had not corrupted, thieves 


A Sunday to be Remembered . 135 

had stolen. Even the old bridal robe had 
failed her. With a bitter laugh that echoed 
strangely in the weird place, Miss Page 
dropped the trunk lid and shut the closet 
door. She seated herself in what once had 
been an elegant easy chair, and closing her 
eyes fell into a long, long meditation. By-and- 
by she heard them singing below her, away 
in the distance: 

“Are you coming Home to Jesus, 

Out of darkness into light? 

Are you coming Home to-night, 

To your loving, heavenly Father, 

Are you coming Home to-night ?” 

Then she heard the singers go through the 
hall, and out, heard the voices of the little 
children in the street below, and later the 
house was still. Louise had gone away with- 
out her, supposing she was not here any 
longer. The tears began to chase down 
Miss Page’s thin cheeks, and fall on her 
clasped hands ; by-and-by she slipped down 
on her knees, and prayed as she had not 


136 Miss Janet's Old House . 


prayed, since the day she went out of this 
room, a fair young girl, with a bitter, angry 
heart, a heart filled with aversion to her fel- 
low-creatures, and lacking faith in her God. 
In the calm of this Sabbath afternoon, all the 
bitterness went out forever. She prayed : 
“ Create in me a clean heart, O God, and 
renew a right spirit within me. Cast me 
not away from Thy presence, and take not 
Thy Holy Spirit from me.” Her prayer was 
heard, 


Loiiise's New Home . 


T 37 


CHAPTER X. 
louise’s new home. 

1 ^OR the next few days after her visit to 
the old house, Miss Janet was very quiet, 
and, for her, exceedingly gentle. Once or 
twice, when Louise spoke of leaving her in a 
short time, she opened her lips to speak, but 
closed them again with a peculiar smile. 
One morning, as they sat at the breakfast 
table, Miss Page leaned back in her chair, 
studying first Louise’s pleasant face, and then 
the table before her. During Louise’s visit, a 
few more spoons and dishes had been added, 
but the service could not yet be called taste- 
ful or abundant. 

“ Baldwin says the police cannot find that 
Van, and I shall probably never see the 


138 Miss Janets Old House . 


stolen silver. No doubt it is all melted. It 
was of no use to me — and there is plenty 
left.” 

Louise looked up in surprise at this avow- 
al, and was not less astonished to hear Miss 
Page continue : “ I am going to turn over 

a new leaf — I want you to help me with 
your advice to-day, and to-night I will tell you 
why I have decided to change my way of 
living. Whatever I buy new hereafter, I 
intend to have simple, and not expensive. I 
have new uses for my wealth.” 

In all Louise’s acquaintance with Miss 
Page, she had never known her to speak of 
her “wealth,” before. 

“ But this house is already full of hoarded 
things, spoiling for lack of use. We will be- 
gin to-day to alter all this. At noon we will 
have fine linen, handsome china and cut 
glass, with all the silver Dolly wants to care 
for. You have made the library a beautiful 
room ; now you may direct Baldwin to hire 


Louise's New Home . 


139 


sufficient help, and have every article of fur- 
niture put where it belongs. We will begin 
to have a home again.” 

Louise’s eyes grew dim ; it touched her to 
hear the lonely woman say, “we,” in this 
house, where she would have only her ser- 
vants, but she answered quickly : “ Oh, I 

will be delighted to help you in this.” 

“ Well, let us go about it at once, then,” 
returned Miss Page, briskly. 

“ I declare, Cousin Janet, it is as much fun 
as reading a fairy story,” laughed Louise, 
somewhat later, for Baldwin and Dolly had 
entered into the affair with all their hearts. 
All over the house, men were laying carpets* 
hanging pictures, women were cleaning glass 
and scrubbing paint. Louise laughed quiet- 
ly to herself, at Dolly’s confidential remark : 
“ We better get it all done while the fit is on 
her, or to-morrow we may not be able to 
carry it forward.” 

Miss Page herself had opened trunks, 


140 Miss Janet's Old House . 

bureau drawers and long locked closets. In 
one great pile she had placed dresses, shawls, 
laces and jewels, remarking : “ Louise, those 
things are all of the best quality, and as 
beautiful now as ever. The dresses were 
made very full, and can be altered to look 
modern — you are welcome to them all.” 

Without heeding the young girl’s reply she 
went on heaping up articles to the right and 
left, saying : “ I shall never buy any more 
new clothes, I have enough to last a life-time ; 
but hereafter, I will wear better things. You 
may tell me how and what to do, for young 
people know about such things. Now over 
and above all we can use, and plenty of good 
sensible clothing which I shall give to Dolly, 
there is enough to clothe many a poor per- 
son. We will select all the strong, warm 
articles that the moths have not spoiled and 
put them together for a supply to draw on 
for charity.” 

So it went all that day. Louise enjoyed all 


Louise's New Home . 


141 

with increasing wonder. Miss Janet grew 
excited as she worked ; the color came into 
her cheeks, and she talked freely of the past 
in a much less melancholy strain than ordi- 
narily. Old cabinets were re-opened, and 
beautiful curiosities brought out ; rare vases, 
costly books, exquisite little pictures came 
again to the light. More than once Louise 
exclaimed : “ Why this house has been a 

perfect storehouse ! ” 

“ Yes — nothing but a storehouse,” remark- 
ed Miss Page, at last; “ but now, if what I have 
can give any one any pleasure, I mean to 
have it used.” 

“ I am so glad of this, Cousin Janet.” 

Miss Page turned around from a drawer 
she had just emptied, exclaiming: “Well, 
child, if it will make you any more glad, I can 
tell you that you yourself have much to do 
with my new resolutions.” 

« I ? ” 

“ Yes, you. This summer you have made 


142 


Miss Janet's Old House . 

me ashamed of myself. I meant to have a 
good, long talk with you to-night, but per- 
haps I will be too tired. I will rest awhile 
now, and begin.” So saying, Miss Janet took 
an easier position, and in a tone so new, be- 
cause void of all sharpness — so earnest that 
every word impressed her listener, she con- 
tinued : 

“You know me as a stingy, cross old 
maid ; that is my reputation, and I deserve it. 
Many people add to this that I am crazy. I 
don’t wonder at that, either ; but you will un- 
derstand me better if I tell you briefly a little 
of my earlier life. At twenty years of age, I 
was a beauty. (If you doubt this, and no one 
would think it possible, I will show you a 
picture I have.) I was a passionate, self-willed 
creature, petted by brothers and sisters, hu- 
mored by wealthy parents. My word was 
law, my life one round of gayety and 
pleasure. I firmly believed that I had a 
right to expect and to demand happiness at 


Louise's New Home. 


143 


the hands of my Maker, and I conceived hap- 
piness to be always the perfect gratification 
of my own will. You, who only see the old 
house across town in its decay, cannot pic- 
ture it, as it used to seem to me then ; a 
sort of earthly Paradise. My first grief ex- 
perienced there was keen, but there was no 
bitterness in it. My mother died, and not 
long after, a brother went ; then a sister, but 
there were left still a brother, a sister and 
my father. We drew closer together, and 
loved one another more intensely, if possible. 
While our hearts were very tender, and the 
home life very quiet, lacking the usual ex- 
citement of social activities, my brother 
brought a new acquaintance into our circle. 
I won’t dwell long on this. Louise, but I pre- 
sume you can understand how soon I came to 
think there was not his equal on earth. I 
think this still.” 

As Louise glanced up, betraying her sur- 
prise, Miss Janet added, “his equal for in- 


144 Miss Janet's Old House . 

famy — but he is dead, and God is his Judge. 
Then, with perfect faith in him, I was en- 
gaged, and in time I made most elaborate 
preparations for my marriage. The morn- 
ing of what would have been our wedding- 
day letters came to me with the fullest proofs 
of his dishonor, and his villainy. The year 
that followed was one long, black dream — 
my father and brother died, one suddenly by 
a terrible accident, the other after a long, 
distressing illness. Sometimes I seemed to 
myself almost insane, sometimes I was as cold 
and dull as a stone. I lost all faith in human 
nature. I believed in God only as a Creator, 
far removed from us, caring nothing for the 
joy or the agony of one single creature, being 
only the passionless arbitrator of each one’s 
fate. Months and years slipped away. My 
sister became an invalid ; we shut ourselves 
away from the world, and soon the world let 
us alone. When this last member of our 
once happy family was taken from me, and 


Louise's New Home . 


145 


I left entirely alone, nothing seemed of any 
more consequence. I had no desire to spend 
money on myself, having no longer any wish- 
es to gratify. I loved no human being, so 
why should I give it away ? I never would 
have moved out of the old house had my 
lawyer not fairly worried me out of it. lie 
declared that the neighborhood had become 
so bad, I would be murdered f6r my money. 
You know the rest.” 

Yes, Louise could easily fill in all the de- 
tails of this picture, but what she did not yet 
clearly understand was the change that all 
at once had come over Miss Page. She 
ventured to ask, in the moment following her 
last words : “Yes, Cousin Janet, I can imag- 
ine it ; and now you are coming out again 
into the sunshine, are you not?” 

“ I do not know about myself, and it does 
not matter so much, but I am going to try to 
turn a little sunshine on other people’s lives 
after this. Will you help me, Louise ?” 

10 


146 Miss Janets Old House . 

“ How ?” 

. “ If I show you a feasible way, will you 
help me ? Promise me that.” 

Louise hesitated a moment before she re- 
plied : 

“ Don’t think me obstinate when I say I 
can’t promise unconditionally to do anything, 
but I will be very glad to help if I think I can 
do it well.” 

“You are still afraid of me,” smiled Miss 
Page, shrewdly ; “ you too fancy that I am a 
little crazy. Well, never mind. I have a pro- 
posal which you may think over to-day and 
can accept or refuse to-morrow. This is it : 
you earn your own living, Louise, by teach- 
ing, and you work hard ; I will offer you the 
same salary, with the vacation time excluded 
or included, at the same rate of pay as your 
salary. You can, if you will, come into my 
house, then be in a sense independent of me, 
and may leave when you are dissatisfied. 


Louise's New Home. 


147 


\ou must help me in ways I will explain 
later." 

Miss Page returned to her work in the 
bureau drawer, leaving Louise dumb with 
amazement. It was a full quarter of an hour 
before she asked, “ In what ways could I 
help, Cousin Janet? Do tell me now." 

“ Well, first of all, right here at home. 
Begin as if you were my sister. Make this 
house like a home. I am too old to know 
how, too old to have bright ideas. Then 
there is that old house. I mean to have it 
cleaned and repaired. The parlors can 
be made into rooms for Mission services. 
There can be a room fitted up for boys. I 
have heard of places where they have books 
and games and entertaining lectures by peo- 
ple who wanted to keep such fellows as 
Harry McCoy from rum-holes. There could 
be a good employment office kept by honest, 
Christian people, who would help good girls 
into good situations. I don’t know why a 


1 48 Miss Janets Old House. 

sort of coffee-room attached would not be a 
nice idea, a place where hot coffee could be 
supplied so very cheaply that it would keep 
some away from saloons. The McCoys 
could have regular work and support in at- 
tending to whatever part of the establishment 
they could manage best, and other reliable 
persons could be hired — ” 

“ My cousin Janet, are you really in earn- 
est ?” cried Louise. “ Have you planned all 
this out, actually meaning to start such 
things ?” 

“ Yes, if I live — even if I do not live out 
this week, it can go on, for I shall have it 
arranged at once so that some one else can 
carry on the enterprise. Of course if we (for 
I want your help in just these ways) if we 
undertake a charity of this sort we need at 
once the advice and aid of practical, expe- 
rienced workers. We don’t want to run head- 
long into any aimless, foolish efforts. I must 
have wise heads as well as warm hearts. My 


Louise's New Home , 149 

tenement houses too must be looked into. 
I shall reduce my rents and improve the 
apartments. They need more water, better 
air, and a — missionary. I could send all 
three to them, and not impoverish myself.” 

“Cousin Janet, what has got into you ?” 
cried Louise, impulsively. 

“The Spirit of the Lord,” replied Miss 
Page, reverently. “ Last Sunday I realized 
that I was growing old fast, and that my 
money would soon be worthless to me — that 
what I had to do I must do quickly. Will 
you stay here and help me, Louise ? Take 
until to-morrow to think of it !” 

“ I cannot take another moment to think 
of it; I will stay and be glad to stay,” cried 
Louise, just as t)olly thrust her head in the 
half open door to say : 

“ Dinner is ready.” 

Perhaps it was as well for both Miss Janet 
and Louise to be just at this moment inter- 
rupted, for the elder lady was trembling with 


150 Miss Janet's Old House . 

excitement, and Louise’s own feelings were 
getting overwrought. It was almost a relief 
to stop this strange conversation for a time 
and follow Dolly to the dining-room. 

As they entered it and approached the table, 
Louise bit her lips with amusement, and Miss 
Page suddenly laughed out more heartily 
than she had been heard to laugh for years. 
To be sure her heart was strangely light, but 
the immediate cause of her laughter was 
Dolly’s latest exploit. She had been told to 
discard the old table furniture and use that 
which had been hitherto stored away. She 
had availed herself of the permission to the 
largest extent. There was silver enough for 
a dinner party, salt-dishes and finger-bowls 
for a dozen people, and if the food was not 
in the same lavish proportion, it was varied 
and abundant enough to suit any reasonable 
cook. 

“ Louise, you must give her a few lessons,” 
said Miss- Page, seating herself behind an 


Louises New Home . 


151 

enormous silver tea-pot. “If you do not, I 
shall be sorry that the burglars left as much 
behind them as this.” 

“ Oh, I can manage Dolly,” laifghed 
Louise ; “ she has a great desire to be 1 ele- 
gant/ as she calls it, but if I tell her ‘ display/ 
is vulgar, she will find the right medium.” 

All day busy workers were here and there 
about the house, up-stairs and down, and 
for a while all was confusion and hurry ; but 
toward night order came out of chaos. 
When later Miss Page and Louise went from 
room to room, they seemed to themselves to 
be visitors in some charming new home. 

“ I would not suppose that merely tacking 
down carpets, and putting things where they 
belong, would make such a difference,” said 
Miss Page, innocently; “ everything was 
here before.” 

“ Yes, but everything was in a heap, a roll, 
or a box,” said Louise smiling ; “ for instance, 
these- crimson silk curtains were in a closet 


152 Miss Janets Old House . 

drawer, not at the windows; these Turkish 
rugs were in the attic, and that copy of 
Fra Angelico’s lovely picture was packed in 
straw.” 

“Yes, it is all delightful; but I shall not 
really begin to enjoy it until I have put my 
tenement houses in decent order.” 

These words, so simply uttered, impressed 
Louise as nothing else that day had moved 
her. If Miss Janet thought to “ enjoy ” any- 
thing, she was changed indeed ; and to what a 
degree must she be changed if she could not 
enjoy herself until she had cared for other 
people ! They ended their circuit in the 
library, and Miss Page sank down in her arm- 
chair under her picture of the Good Samari- 
tan, saying: 

“ I like this room the best of all, Louise. 
It reminds me of the old house — but in a 
pleasant sense. By-the-way, Louise, I have 
an idea to suggest. You know, as I said this 
morning, we must have advice from people of 


Louise's New Home. 


153 


experience in charitable and reformatory 
work before we go on with the plans at that 
house. Suppose we send for that Mr. Flem- 
ming some evening before long, and talk the 
matter over with him.” 

“Why do you choose him ?” asked Louise, 
after some hesitation; “you do not know 
hi m ” 

“Not personally, but Baldwin has learned 
a good deal about him since Harry McCoy 
died. He says he is a very promising young 
minister, esteemed by older clergymen. He 
likes mission work, and has great success in 
it. He refused lately a fine salary and a 
wealthy church near the city, in order to stay 
with some working, poor church here.” 

When Louise made no reply, Miss Page 
inquired : 

“ Do you know anything against him ?” 

“ O no, certainly not.” 

“ But you have some reason for disliking 
him, have you not ?” 


154 Miss Janet's Old House . 

“ No, Cousin Janet, I do not dislike him in 
the least. In fact I — I — have not seen him 
for three — for a long, long time.” 

“Well, then, just tell me what you do 
know of him.” 

“ I know that Baldwin tells the truth. He 
is a great worker, and every one likes him.” 

Miss Page sat a while without speaking ; 
then in a tone very persuasive for one usu- 
ally so peremptory, she remarked : 

“You are keeping something back, Louise 
Norton, I know you are.” 

“ Well, will you not believe me that it is 
nothing to his discredit. He is one of the 
most upright, pure minded men I ever knew. 
He has fine talent, and a gift for winning the 
respect and love of the poor. He understands 
human nature — that is, in dealing with what 
people call the ’ masses.’ Now, what more 
could you ask ?” 

“ I could ask to know why you do not or 


Louises New Home . 155 

did not seem anxious to have him as our 
helper?” said Miss Page, calmly 

“ I think he would be just the very man of 
all others to help you,” expostulated Louis 
with a kind of distressed vehemence. Then 
getting no reply, she went on : “I must tell 
you now, or you will imagine all sorts of 
things. Well, a few years ago I spent my 
summer vacation in L . It is a lovely lit- 

tle village, and I had engaged board in a 
nice family ; but the week I entered the fami- 
ly, two of the children were taken very ill, 
and all sorts of domestic catastrophes began. 

I staid and helped the mother until she got a 
capable nurse ; then the servant (she kept 
only one,) grumbled at the size of the family. 
The lady of the house asked me if I would 
not go across the road and board with a very 
pleasant widow who had an invalid daugh- 
ter, and would gladly take me as a boarder. 

I went and found Mrs. Flemming (the mother 
of this minister), a very excellent elderly lady. 


156 Miss Janets Old House . 

She told me she was supported by her two 
sons ; one was a young man, in a bank, on a 
salary, the other was preaching over a poor 
church here. During the summer the latter 
had a vacation and spent it at home. We 
became very well acquainted, and I found him 
just such a man as I have described to you. 
Living under the same roof, in a small refined 
family, we naturally saw considerable of one 
another, and ” 

“And he fell in love with you, no doubt/' 
suggested Miss Page, smiling in the shadow 
where she sat. 

“ Yes." 

“ And you ?” 

“ I liked him — very much ; we were engag- 
ed when I came back to my teaching. That 
winter, when there was need of a new music 
teacher in our seminary, I happened to tell 
him of the fact, and he gave me the address 
of a lady who could fill the place admirably. 
She was his own cousin. Well, the trustees 


Louise's New Home . 


J 57 


of the school made inquiries, and at last en- 
gaged her. When she came I liked her very 
well — not unreservedly, however, and I have 
come to think since then that I had a true 
intuition that she was insincere. I believe 
she never liked me, but we were exceedingly 
friendly. She soon learned that Mr, Flem- 
ming was engaged to me, and she was very 
free to talk of it to me, to tell me all about 
herself and of him, his family, their circum- 
stances — how hard had been their past strug- 
gles with poverty. A year went by, and I 
agreed to be married in the winter holidays. 
Mr. Flemmings salary was small, but we 
planned to live very economically, and then 
have enough for him to spare the same 
amount that he had always given to his mo- 
ther. In August his younger brother died, 
after a sudden, severe illness, and soon his 
sister was attacked with a new and peculiar 
malady, requiring the advice and services of 
the best physicians. All the support of the 


158 Miss Janet's Old House . 

family, then, came on Herbert — Mr. Flem- 
ming, I mean, and the expenses were great- 
ly increased. I insisted that our marriage 
should be postponed indefinitely, and he was 
forced to see that I was right. We were 
the same or more even to each other, because 
he needed somebody to cheer him, and we 
were, of course, engaged to be married when 
times were brighter. 

Miss S., his cousin, knew all this, but she 
took care to tell me continually how heavy a 
load my friend carried, and that physicians 
said his sister would soon have to be kept in 
a private asylum, which would be very expen- 
sive. She laughed a great deal about an 
heiress, who liked Mr. Flemming, and told 
me she had joined his church and begged 
him to use her money freely for mission work. 
I laughed with her. She did not tell me 
that she was always laughing at him and tell- 
ing him, with some motive, which I can hard- 
ly now think to have been mere mischief, 


Louise s New Home. 


159 


that I had a wealthy admirer, one of the 
patrons of our school. This was true, and 
she took care that Mr. Flemming should see 
flowers that he would send me — this rich 
man, I mean. I understand now many things 
I could not make out then. Meanwhile Miss 
S. gradually worked on me, until I feared 
that Herbert might wear himself out with 
over-work. I could not love or marry any 
one else, but I began to reason that while I 
could trust him forever, he might feel freer to 
give more time and thought to his home du- 
ties if we were not engaged. I suggested this 
to him at last, and I was grieved and angry 
to find him, as I fancied then, capable of dis- 
trust and of jealousy. I did not know what 
I know now, that while he was weary and low 
spirited, seeing no time when he could share 
with me anything but poverty — that then 
his cousin was telling him I might be mistress 
of an uptown mansion, if I would accept Mr. 
H. He loved me, but he would not be self- 


160 Miss Janet's Old House . 

ish, so when he was trying to find out if I 
could be happy with any one else, I thought 
him suspicious. It was a miserable interview, 
from beginning to end. I intended to show 
him, that I would never be a clog on him ; 
that if his mother and sister needed him he 
must be everything to them that love and 
duty prompted him to be— that while he was 
so poor, he must not have a wife. I only 
succeeded, I think now, in confirming him in 
a belief, fostered by his cousin, that I ought 
no longer to be bound to him ; that I was 
sacrificing myself to a long, hopeless engage- 
ment. From that point it was easy to go on 
in a misunderstanding, which ended in our 
breaking the engagement. I never saw him 
after that day, until the evening when he 
came to see Harry McCoy. Miss S. left the 
school long ago. You can easily see, I should 
be very unwilling to seek his acquaintance 
again. I have no doubt he has gotten all 
over his old affection for me — he could have 


Louise's New Home . 161 

made all right between us before this, if he 
had chosen. His sister died a year ago, and 
he has made himself a name and a position 
since I knew him.” 

“ Thank you, Louise, for giving me this 
confidence. I see now that my ideas are 
hardly feasible. If I ever ask this mans 
help, I will take care that it is in no way that 
will prove unpleasant to you. Poor girl, you 
have not trodden on roses after all — and you 
have kept so bright and cheerful.” 

“ Oh, what was the use of sitting down to 
cry ? ” replied Louise, with a laugh, that failed 
to be merry, and then she began to talk of 
something else until it was time to retire. 

* * * * 

It was remarkable how soon every one be- 
came accustomed to the new comfort, order 
and cheerfulness which reigned in Miss 
Page’s reformed house. Dolly found a ca- 
pable young girl, well known to her, who 
wished a situation, and after a little persua- 


ii 


i 62 


Miss Janet's Old House . 

sion Miss Page engaged her to keep in order 
the newly arranged rooms, to wait at the 
better regulated table, to open the front 
door. People began to come to this door 
again, for one of Miss Janet’s first moves was 
to call on all her former acquaintances, so 
long neglected, and to take pains to show 
them that she was about to start on a new 
line. Naturally, this made some gossip, but 
the impression gained that she had been in- 
sane on account of trouble, and had now re- 
covered her health. She represented an “ old 
family;” she appeared once more well dress- 
ed, and well behaved — so many friends re- 
turned her calls, and new relations with the 
world were resumed. 

“ I am much too old, and I have suffered 
and learned too much,” said Miss Page to 
Louise, “ ever to be again ‘in society,’ but 
I want to be again in the world. I seem to 
care for people in a new way.” 

Very little of her time was spent in this 


Louise's New Home. 


163 

manner, after all. Under Baldwin’s super- 
vision the tenement houses were made com- 
fortable, as well as wholesome places of 
abode, and the house across town was un- 
dergoing a thorough transformation. Miss 
Page frequently asserted, nowadays, that she 
could not afford to make mistakes in regard to 
her work hereafter, and therefore she sought 
and adopted the best advice from men and 
women of experience. The McCoys remain- 
ed in the house, and as the process of re- 
modelling it went on, they gave good service 
in work. Every morning Miss Page was on 
the spot, overlooking the changes, and al- 
most every afternoon she was inspecting 
Homes, Asylums, or Coffee Houses, getting 
“ ideas,” as she said. She suggested a city 
missionary, a person of experience, to serve 
her in various ways, and Mr. Flemming’s 
name was never again mentioned. Some- 
times, when Louise, impressed by the wisdom 
of a new measure, would express great appro- 


164 Miss Janet's Old House. 

val, Miss Page would say : “ Oh, don’t praise 
me — I am not capable of such bright ideas : 
I have a multitude of counsellors then 
Louise would think, “ If he were one of them 
I should suspect the plan was his.” 

It was Miss Page’s desire to have the 
house finished by Christmas. She wanted 
to have then her machinery for winter work 
all in order, and on that particular day to 
have a housewarming : to this end all her 
energies were directed. 


One Day's Work. 


165 


CHAPTER XI. 

ONE DAY'S WORK. 

AYS and weeks passed. Christmas 



came. Early in the morning of that 
day, which was dark and intensely cold, a 
closed carriage was waiting before Miss 
Page’s door. The coachman had only beat- 
en his cold hands together a few times, when 
the door opened, and out tripped Miss Janet 
Page and her cousin. They seated them- 
selves comfortably in the carriage, and were 
driven rapidly down town, while Louise ex- 
claimed : “ Cousin Janet ! You look twenty 
years younger, and a century happier than 
you looked six months ago, if happiness can 
be measured by years.” 

“ I can believe it j I feel as if I had drop- 


166 Miss Janet's Old House . 

ped a long time of gloom and bitterness out 
of my life, and that now God was giving me, 
not my youth again, but a brief time, before 
my days are all numbered, to show my love to 
him. Every day I thank him for the chance, 
and for my wealth.” 

Louise smiled back in sympathy, and they 
were silent for a while, only Louise could not 
but think to herself over and over again : 
“ How she is changed !” 

Miss Page’s personal appearance had 
much to do with this impression. She had 
never been actually untidy, but the garments 
she wore had never troubled her in the least. 
Now she had put off her unnecessarily old 
ugly apparel with the roughness and asperi- 
ties of her speech. 

To-day she wore a dress, antique in pat- 
tern, but becoming, in a quaint, pretty way ; 
a soft lace handkerchief was knotted around 
her neck, and her whole air was that of a lit- 
tle old-fashioned lady — but a lady without a 


One Day's Work . 


167 


doubt. Yes, her face seemed actually chang- 
ed ! The sharp eyes were softer, the stern 
lips smiled peacefully. Her cheeks were 
fuller, her complexion fresher, on account of 
the more generous fare and the much out-of- 
door exercise she had taken of late. 

The carriage rattled over the pavements, 
down and across town, toward the street 
where stood the old house, but the renewed 
house. The exterior was not greatly altered, 
save by the addition of a larger doorway, and 
the changes made by fresh paint and new 
glass. As Miss Page’s foot touched the 
threshold, Don, with a shining face and a new 
suit of clothes, opened the door, smiling rap- 
turously. All the stains and cobwebs had 
vanished from the hall ; it was lighter and 
more like a reception-room, for one-half of it 
had been cut off and the first cheerful sight 
that greeted the new comers was a fire-place, 
with a brilliant open fire. The old parlors 
were ready now for various uses. One was 


i68 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


plainly fitted up for a reading-room, and 
against the walls in neat cases were several 
hundred books adapted to different read- 
ers. On the tables were pictures, games, 
papers and magazines. Over the mantel 
piece was a beautiful large engraving of 
“ The Good Samaritan.” This room could be 
made one with the back parlor, which was ar- 
ranged for a Sunday-school. All the rest of 
the house was this day open for inspection, 
and Miss Page darted about from room to 
room like an excited child. In the basement 
was a room where hot coffee, hot soup and 
other simple refreshments were to be sold at 
the very lowest rates. On the upper floors 
were neatly furnished rooms, already let to 
working girls. Each department of the sim- 
ple establishment was in charge of a compe- 
tent person, and in detail the proposed man- 
agement of all seemed sensible, feasible and 
truly charitable. 

“ I don’t expect to get any return in 


One Day s Work. 


169 


money from this house,” explained Miss 
Page, when questioned. “ I expect to spend a 
great deal on it, but I am not going to make 
paupers either ; I shall be content if the child- 
ren about the streets will be attracted here 
to learn simple Bible truths, if the wild boys 
will spend time over my books and games, 
instead of gambling or drinking. I shall 
know that at least a few hard-working hon- 
est women have good beds, warm rooms, 
cheap, wholesome food, and are helped in 
every way possible. I want my old house, 
so long dreary and desolate, to be now warm 
— alive, like a beating human heart, a heart 
of love and sympathy.” 

Not long after Miss Page and Louise ar- 
rived, many invited visitors of various kinds 
came, one set after another, and none of them 
went away until they had been shown all 
over the house, taken to the dining-room for 
a nice lunch, and given tickets for the even- 
ing exercises in the parlors. None of these 


i jo Miss Janet's Old House . 

visitors were “ society people.” They were 
in one case the friends of the young women 
who rented rooms here. Again, a “ worker,” 
whom Miss Page had found, and was using, 
came with a dozen or more wild boys ready 
for any wild deed. Had the earnest-hearted 
young man who led them known any less of 
boy nature, or had a manner less genial, win- 
ning and magnetic, they might have set all 
order at defiance; but as it was, they did not 
leave before some had glanced with favor at 
the games or the magic lantern, some had 
opened an attractive book, and all had eaten 
a “square meal,” given them as they knew 
by the white-haired Miss Janet, who had 
been “ so good to Harry McCoy.” She did 
not know how all of them had talked of 
him and of her, and agreed that she was 
“mighty” kind after all, if she was ^cracked.” 
All through the day such persons came and 
went. No disorder occurred, and no police- 
man showed his face. Miss Page had never 


One Day s Work . 


171 


dreamed of anything but order, while Bald- 
win had been prepared for emergencies. He 
and the McCoys had made provisions against 
any trouble from unruly visitors, but their 
care was needless. 

When evening came, troops of children 
were hurrying toward this house, which for 
the first time within their memories was 
warmed and brightly lighted. By-and-by 
the mothers of the little ones also came beg- 
ging admission, and none, old or young, were 
turned away until the parlors and halls could 
hold no more. The rooms had been trim- 
med with Christmas greens and pretty ban- 
ners ; the programme had been gotten ready 
with due reference to the crude taste and the 
ignorance of the audience. Many of Miss 
Page’s “counsellors” were there, but no long 
speeches or tiresome exercises were permit- 
ted. There was lively music, hearty singing 
of joyful carols, magic lantern pictures, and 
little by little the listeners were made to un- 


172 Miss Janet's Old House . 

derstand that this place was hereafter to be 
theirs. Here they could take a rest, get 
good for body and mind, find friends, get 
hints about outside situations — have their 
children taught pure, good things. 

There was but one real address. Miss 
Page had told Louise that she wished one, 
and for that talk to her “ parish/’ she must 
select some wide-awake, warm-hearted Chris- 
tian man, who would not weary the young 
or offend the old. Some one able to leave 
in their hard hearts and dull brains, this 
Christmas night, a lasting impression — a ten- 
der thought of the Lord Jesus Christ. Whom 
Miss Page had found for the speaker, Louise 
forgot to ascertain. She was so busy all day 
that she gave no thought to the evening un- 
til she found herself singing carols with the 
children. When Miss Page whispered to her : 
“ Shall we give the children their little gifts 
before the minister talks to them, or after?” 
she replied : “ Afterwards ; for I think they 


One Day s Work . 


173 


will be too excited to hear a word he says if 
they have them first.” 

She did not even look towards the end of 
the room to see “the minister,” until his first 
words fell on her ear. Then she turned very 
pale, and sank to the seat which Don had 
been keeping empty for her. Perhaps the 
other listeners paid better attention to Mr. 
Flemming’s address than this one, who had 
room in her mind for only one thought ; that 
Mr. Flemming was here in her presence. 
Just before he ended, she looked steadily at 
him, shielded from his sight, by a woman be- 
fore her. What a fine, clear cut face he had! 
What a clear, rich voice ! Yes, he was good, 
one of the best men on earth, strong and 
gentle ; but he did not understand womankind, 
or he never would have judged her so incor- 
rectly. 

After the speech came a merry time for all 
Louise’s scholars (and near Christmas time 
their numbers had greatly increased); all these 


i74 


Miss Janet's Old House. 


received a little gift, and a generous supply 
of candy and oranges. When the last eager 
hand had been filled, grateful “ good-nights ” 
began to be said, and soon the children were 
gone. 

A little crowd of Miss Page’s “counsellors,” 
and fellow-workers surrounded her, and 
Louise, not seeing the late speaker among 
them, was about to join the group, when Mr. 
Flemming appeared at her side. He did not 
greet her or offer his hand, but he said : 

“ I tell other people that it is good to 
be unselfish — but a few years ago I tried (no- 
body knows what it cost me) to be unselfish, 
and every day since I have bitterly regretted 
my effort. Do you know what I mean ?” 

Louise did not look up, her cheeks grew 
very pink, as she answered : 

“Perhaps not. I have not always under- 
stood you in the past — but one thing is cer- 
tain, you have not believed me unselfish.” 

She had not meant to rebuke him ; she was 


One Day s Work . 


T 75 


too proud to seek an explanation of his acts 
or thoughts, but in speaking out suddenly 
her secret grievance, she gave him the chance 
longed for — the chance Miss Page had plan- 
ned for, when she chose her speaker. 

“ Perhaps I have not understood you, 
Louise ! Perhaps you have not known me 
and my motives. Now, because I love you 
to-night, as I loved you three years ago, bet- 
ter than any one else in the world, will you 
let me find out what all this miserable separa- 
tion has come from ? — If you would only let 
it end !” 

No one interrupted them. Miss Page 
seemed to have long confidences to share 
with her friends, but her keen eyes saw be- 
yond her own circle. She saw two very 
earnest faces, and feared at first that all was 
not going happily ; but soon in the shadow of 
an arch ofhemlock, Mr. Flemming took pos- 
session of Louise’s hand, and their dialogue 
was prolonged. When at last they were 


1 76 Miss Janet s Old House . 


interrupted, Louise sought Miss Page, and 
followed her silently about with very bright 
eyes. 

“I hope, Louise,” said the spinster mis- 
chievously, “ that Mr. Flemming’s presence 
here to-night has not affected you unpleasant- 
ly. I thought it might not make any differ- 
ence with you.” 

A new light broke over the young lady’s 
face, as looking quickly into Miss Janet’s eyes, 
she exclaimed : 

“ And you thought, too, that it might make 
a difference. Confess that you have been 
scheming !” 

Miss Page laughing gleefully, only put the 
question : 

“ Has it ? Are you any nearer understand- 
ing one another ?” 

Before Louise could reply, Mr. Flemming 
held out his hand to Miss Page, saying : 

“ My good friend, I have been lately con- 
stantly congratulating you on the success of 


One Day s Work. 


1 77 


your undertakings ; now I want your sym- 
pathy with my happiness. Louise says 
you know something of the past, so you will 
not be greatly astonished to learn that in 
the future — the near future, we expect to 
marry.” 

“ I have something to say about that.” re- 
torted Miss Page, laughing. “ I have engag- 
ed Louise for a year. She cannot leave my 
house until the year expires, but I will be 
merciful. I would let you come and be my 
private chaplain — yes, we will arrange all 
that.” 

A little later Miss Page and Baldwin were 
seeing the rooms made ready for the morrow, 
when the established order was to begin ; 
then with a few last words to the matron, and 
more to the McCoys, Miss Page prepared to 
go home. 

“ I never saw a woman more changed 
than Mrs. McCoy is,” said Baldwin ; “ when I 

first saw her she was a worn-out, discouraged 
12 


178 Miss Janet's Old House . 

creature. Now she takes such an interest in 
this place and seems so grateful to you, that 
she is going to be great help here. The 
matron says that with her and Jessie she 
can run the establishment ten times more 
smoothly than with other outside help ; even 
Don fits in as a door-tender and errand 
boy.” 

“ Yes, and Don will make his mark some 
day,” returned Miss Page, adding, “ I shall 
help him to do it if my life is spared. Now, 
Baldwin, call the carriage, and I will go in a 
minute. I want to take a look up-stairs.” 

Baldwin went for the carriage. Louise 
and her friend were talking in a quiet cor- 
ner, without thought of time or surroundings. 
Miss Page, glad to be unnoticed, turned and 
ran up-stairs, going to that room that she 
had kept locked for years. The door was 
not closed to-night, the gas in it was lighted. 
It was warm and bright, made smaller and 
greatly changed. Now the furniture was 


One Day s Work . 


179 


simple ; a few seats, a writing-desk, a case of 
carefully chosen devotional books, a table, 
and an open fire, cosily glowing in the 
grate. 

“ The people in the house will call this my 
office,” thought Miss Page, “and it is just as 
well ; but to me, this place can become some- 
thing infinitely more and better than it has 
ever been. Here I will pray, and study my 
long neglected Bible — here I will try and draw 
to me wounded lives, sad, or simple hearts, 
anybody whom I can by word or deed help 
up and on to better things ; as little Don said, 
I am going to care for my neighbors. My old 
house is a thing of the past. I am done with 
it forever. My old life I trust God has for- 
given. The new house can, with the blessing 
of heaven, be the Inn, where Good Samari- 
tans may bring in the hurt from life’s high- 
ways and out of ‘compassion,’ bind up their 
wounds.” 

With a heart full of emotion, Miss Page 


180 Miss Janet's Old House, 

glanced once more about the room. Her 
eyes fell on the spot where formerly had 
hung the tarnished mirror that reflected her 
girlish face on the morning of her bridal day. 
No mirror hung there now, but in illuminated 
letters, was the beautiful old motto : 

“ WoulcTst have a friend ? 

Would’st know what friend is best ? 

Choose God thy Friend, who passeth all the rest.” 


Here a Little and There a Little . 181 


CHAPTER XII. 

HERE A LITTLE AND THERE A LITTLE. 

T N the fourth story of the renewed house 
was a little room, scarcely larger than a 
spacious closet. This little room, daintily 
clean, its walls and floor of natural woods, its 
furniture cheap but tasteful, was to its inmate, 
Jessie McCoy, the most attractive place 
wherein she had ever possessed any rights, 
for it was all her own. When her many 
duties about the house were done, she could 
come here and think. It seemed to her that 
she had never been able before to think, in 
the worry and struggle which had crowded 
much that was restful and pleasant out of her 
young life. Ever since she ceased to be a 
child, her time and thoughts had been spent 


1 82 Miss Janet's Old House . 

in answering the one question : “ From what 
source were they to get food, fuel and clothes ? 
A great burden had now been lifted from her 
shoulders by Miss Page’s help, and as a result, 
the whole aspect of life was changed. 

Mrs. McCoy seemed to have become ten 
years younger ; she had gained energy, am- 
bition, and a hearty zeal in carrying out Miss 
Page’s plans. Jessie felt the same degree of 
gratitude toward their benefactor; but after 
all she was conscious (and a little surprised by 
the fact) that she owed even more to Louise 
Norton than to Miss Page. True, the latter 
had placed her where she might, in quiet 
and safety, support herself ; and for the neat 
room she so much enjoyed, the good warm 
apparel she could wear, and the wholesome 
food she could now afford, she thanked Miss 
Page most sincerely. 

What Louise had done for Jessie was not so 
apparent, yet it was as real. In the past Jessie 
had been superior to the young women with 


Here a Little and There a Little . 183 

whom she had come in contact ; but in say- 
ing this not much is claimed for her. Where 
other shop-girls had been loud, vulgar and 
bold, Jessie had retired within herself, keep- 
ing modest and self-respecting. Now, since 
Louise had become known to Jessie, she had 
stirred in the younger girl’s heart, earnest 
desires to be “better” — more helpful to 
others, more gentle and pure. Without really 
willing so to do, Jessie had taken Louise as 
a model in all such ways as seemed to be 
practical. She was by far too sensible to 
ignore the social differences between them, 
and to copy her in externals, but she read the 
books that Louise liked, she studied her 
tastes, her principles, and she followed her 
advice to the letter. 

One afternoon she sat in her room sewing 
by the fading daylight. After a while she 
was forced to stop, and dropping her work, 
she sat looking out on the view she could 
enjoy even from this window of a city build- 


184 Miss Janet's Old House , 

mg. She was now high enough to see over 
the house-tops, out on the surface of the 
water, now all tinged with rose color and 
gold. She was so absorbed in thought 
that she did not hear Louise Norton, who 
first spoke at the open door, then entered. 
However, at a friendly touch on her shoulder, 
she sprang up to give her visitor the seat of 
honor. 

“ Jessie,” asked Louise, after a pleasant 
greeting, “ how many young women are 
there now in the house ?” 

“ Ten in all ; two English dressmakers, 
nice girls, three pretty wild shop girls, who 
are clerks ; two copyists, a visiting governess 
and two girls who sew in shops. 

“ And does everything go on pleasantly ?” 
asked Louise. 

“ Well,” replied Jessie, hesitatingly, “ ev- 
erything has gone smoothly so far, but I 
want you to tell me what to do now. These 
girls are all at home evenings, or they have 


Here a Little and There a Little. 185 

been, until lately, the five shop girls have 
begun to go out, and they do not behave so 
well as at first. I spent a few evenings with 
them, but all their talk was of new fashions, 
or silly speeches of the ‘gentlemen clerks' 
in the shops ; so I did not enjoy it, and they 
think now that I ‘ put on airs.' I am sorry, 
for I promised Miss Page to be one of them, 
and to make them feel at home here ; but I 
don’t know how to go about it. Perhaps you 
had better talk to them.” 

“ No, Jessie, that would not be the best 
way. I will tell you what I will do ; you ask 
them all to meet me in Miss Page’s office to- 
morrow evening. She will not be there, but 
I will bring an interesting book, and we will 
form a little club, to meet twice a week. I will 
get books, bright, good ones, and once a 
week I will read all the evening, with inter- 
vals for informal talk about our story. For 
the other nights we will plan something 
else ; perhaps, in some way, you can help 


1 86 Miss Janet's Old House . 

them, and learn with them without offending 
their vanity.” 

“ What do you bother wth them at all for, 
Miss Louise — or with me?” asked Jessie, 
suddenly ; “ you have no need of us, your life 
is full of ways of enjoying yourself. If you 
should go to church and should teach in Sun- 
day-school and tried just to be good yourself, 
as you are, anyway — most people would 
think it was enough.” 

“ Most people think very foolish things, 

then, Jessie, and as a wise man said once : 

‘ It is not enough to be good — we should be 
good for something.’ I ‘ bother,’ as you call 
it, over these homeless, friendless girls be- 
cause they are worth it. They have souls to 
be made purer for this world, and to be saved 
for the next. The more we love the Lord, 
Jessie, the more we shall care for other peo- 
ple. If you begin to help others from that 
motive, you will not get discouraged.” 

Jessie did not make much of a reply, but 


% 

Here a Little and There a Little . 187 

she remembered Louise’s words, and that 
conversation was the beginning of good. 

The next night nine of the lodgers met in 
Miss Page’s office. Some, as the two Eng- 
lish sisters, came promptly, bringing their 
basket of mending, and expressed plainly 
their pleasure at the proposed plan of read- 
ing together; the two copyists dropped in 
with a doubtful air, as if they might be bored ; 
the shop girls came late, giggling and unde- 
cided about staying long. The room was 
very bright ; Louise was a fine reader ; the 
book was not at all dull. A basket of cakes 
and fruit sat on the table behind the reader, 
and when the guests had listened, and eaten, 
and chatted socially together, they were 
heartily ready for a club. They were not 
foolish enough to think that Miss Norton 
sought their companionship for its own sake ; 
they sagely suspected that she had designs 
on them, was trying to do them good, but* if 


1 88 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


they enjoyed her experiments, why not let 
her work unhindered? 

“Were they all here?” she asked, when 
the last one had gone out, leaving her alone 
with Jessie, 

“ All but Kitty Prior ; she is the youngest 
and the prettiest girl in the house ; she said 
she had an engagement and could not come.” 

“ Is she the girl with great dark eyes — the 
one who dresses in a rather dashing way ? I 
have met such a girl here, once or twice. ” 

“Yes, she is very lively or very sad — I 
don’t understand her, but she is always very 
kind and obliging.” 

“ I must seek her out,” replied Louise, 
and Mr. Flemming appearing just then in 
the door, Jessie discreetly vanished. 

“ Miss Page sent me after you,” he ex- 
claimed. “ Of course, I was very reluctant 
to come, but I try to do my duty like a man.” 

“ If the effort ever costs you too much ex- 
ertion,” returned the young lady, mischiev- 


Here a Little and There a Little . 189 

ously, “ you can send Baldwin ; he made 
an excellent escort before you appeared on 
the scene.” 

“ I have no doubt that he did ; he’s paid 
well, and I owe Baldwin unending gratitude 
on my own score. If he had not found me, 
when would I have found you again ? ” 

As Jessie McCoy was going through the 
hall that evening, she met her mother, who 
detained her, saying : “Wait a moment, Jessie, 
I want to speak to you.” 

“What is it? You look tired.” 

“ I am tired, and that is it ; I want to go to 
bed now, for my head aches.” 

“Well, go right away, I will attend to all 
your work for the rest of the evening,” said 
Jessie, promptly. 

“ There is something I promised to do,” 
began Mrs. McCoy, hesitatingly, and I did 
wrong, perhaps ; but Kitty Prior teased me 
so that I could not refuse. You know she 


190 Miss Janet's Old House . 

made that nice white apron for me last week, 
and she would not let me pay her.” 

“ Yes, but what did Kitty want to-night ? ” 

“ She wants to stay out about an hour 
after the house is shut for the night ; and I 
promised to get up or to stay up and let her 
in. She has gone to the theatre with some 
friends. There is no harm in Kitty, only she 
is a little giddy.” 

“ You want me to let her in ? ” said Jessie, 
slowly. “Well, I will; for now she is out, 
some one must let her in, and you are too 
tired to sit up ; but, mother, we must not 
agree ever to do this again. Miss Page has 
given us all to understand that certain rules 
of the house must be kept. It is not good 
for girls who have to work hard all day to 
be out nights.” 

Jessie’s tone was respectful, but firm ; she 
was sorry that her step-mother had been so 
weak as to yield to Kitty’s pleading. Mrs. 


Here a Little and There a Little . 19 1 

McCoy meant well enough, but she lacked 
good judgment. 

“ I know, Jessie — I know it was foolish in 
me, and I shall not do it again, so don’t wor- 
ry. Just set up for her this once and so say- 
ing Mrs. McCoy went on up-stairs. 

Jessie, left alone, took a book and went to 
her room to read, until the matron should 
lock up the establishment. “Then,” said the 
young girl to herself, “ I will go down and 
let Kitty in this once, and to-morrow I mean 
to tell Miss Louise that I did it ; for it is 
against the rules.” 

It was more than an hour before Jessie 
knew by various signs and sounds that the 
house was being closed for the night. Later, 
when there was perfect silence in the halls, 
she ventured out, and down to the basement. 
It was chilly and very uncomfortable waiting 
there for a long time, in the dimmest possible 
light, for naughty Kitty ; so by-and-by Jes- 


192 Miss Janet's Old House . 

sie lost all patience, and fell into a train of 
thought like this : 

“ Kitty Prior ought to be ashamed of her- 
self ; she is a silly little fool, who is mighty 
proud of her pretty face. She is no better 
looking than I am this moment ; but I think 
a great deal too much of myself to behave 
like this. I mean to give her a piece of my 
mind when she comes — she needs it.” 

Before this mood of Jessie’s could pass, 
Kitty unfortunately returned. At a gentle 
tap on the door, Jessie aroused herself from 
her stiff position close to the fire, and with 
her indignation thoroughly working, she went 
to let in the delinquent. 

“ Why, Jessie! I thought — it would be 
your mother,” stammered Kitty ; and even in 
the dim light of the basement, Jessie noticed 
how pretty she was, her large eyes bright 
with excitement, her cheeks crimson, and a 
bunch of gay flowers thrust in her cheap lace 


Here a Little and There a Little . 193 

neck-tie. Somehow her beauty made Jessie 
sharper. 

“ Mother went to bed hours ago ; she was 
too tired to sit up nearly all night, so I have 
done it ; but it is the last time, I can tell you, 
Miss Kitty.” 

“ My gracious, how cross you are !” 

“ Well, I have a right to be cross and dis- 
gusted. This house is for quiet, respectable 
lodgers, who mean to be in at reasonable 
hours. I am as young as you are, Kitty 
Prior, and I like amusement, though I may 
not get much ; but I would be ashamed to 
run the streets as you do ” 

“ Look here, Jessie McCoy ; you stop all 
such talk as that. I have been to the theatre 
with people as good as you, or any of your 
friends. Who are you to take on such grand 
airs ? Miss Page picked you and your mo- 
ther out of the street ; for your mother told 
me so.” 

“ You will find out who I am!” retorted 


13 


194 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


Jessie, hotly, “ and you will find out, too, 
that Miss Page listens to what I have to say ; 
when I tell her of you, she will send you out 
of this house, I know she will.” 

“ Let her ! Do you suppose there is no 
better place than this dull old house in the 
city ? It is nothing but a — a — sort of an 
asylum, any way ! and I was teased this 
very evening to leave here and go where I 
could have more fun, when my days work 
was done. So, Miss Jessie, you’ll never 
have another chance to lecture me, and you 
can tell of me or not, as you see fit.” 

Kitty’s voice was very full of passion, and 
dashing by Jessie, she rushed up-stairs to 
her own room. 

Jessie staid behind to see that the door 
was locked, the gas turned still lower, and 
all right ; then she mounted the stairs slowly, 
her spirits suddenly depressed and her wrath 
cooling very rapidly, as certain thoughts en- 
tered her mind. She had not told Kitty any- 


Here a Little and There a Little. 195 

thing that was really untrue or very unjust, 
but the result of her words was not satisfac- 
tory — was rather alarming. Had she carried 
out Miss Page’s aims in trying to enforce her 
rules ? As Jessie passed the office door, and 
remembered Miss Louise and her careful in- 
terest in these girls, she recalled her words : 
“ the more we love the Lord, Jessie, the 
more we will care for other people. I care 
for these homeless, friendless girls, because 
they are worth it; they have souls to be 
made pure for this world and saved for the 
next.” 

With a thrill of fear Jessie realized that she 
had been just now doing her best to push 
thoughtless, reckless Kitty out from a safe 
shelter, into a thousand dangers. These 
“ friends,” of whom she talked, might be any- 
thing but kind or helpful ; the pleasant place 
to which she would flee, might be veritable 
quicksands. 

In the quiet of her own pretty room, her 


196 Miss Janet's Old House . 

conscience would not let her find rest. As 
she looked at the little shelf of books given 
her by Miss Louise, at the basket full of work 
for which Miss Page was to give her gener- 
ous pay, she thought to herself, “ I am safe 
and happy now, chiefly because of these 
Christian women who are kind to me, and 
who want me to help them to help others. 
Oh, I ought to be ashamed of this night’s 
work !” 

She could not get sleepy. The fog bells on 
the river, the fire alarms in the neighborhood, 
all the usual nocturnal sounds annoyed her. 
Finally she sprang up, dressed herself hastily, 
and crossing the hall, sought a certain door. 
Why she fancied that Kitty would be also 
awake, Jessie could scarcely have told ; but 
Kitty was awake, and moreover was break- 
ing another house rule ; for from under her 
door crept little tell-tale rays of light. When 
Jessie rapped slightly, they were instantly 
extinguished, and no one answered. ^ 


Here a Little and There a Little . 197 

“ Kitty,” said her visitor, in a loud whisper, 
“ please let me in. I want to see you a 
minute very much ; just open your door and 
let me speak.” 

After a moment, apparently of indecision 
on Kitty’s part, the door opened. Jessie en- 
tered quickly, and turning up the gas per- 
ceived Kitty dressed as before. She had 
been packing her possessions as if for depart- 
ure ; a shabby little trunk was pulled into the 
middle of the room ; while tossed about on 
the bed and chairs were a few articles of 
cheap finery and garments, some far too 
showy for use, some greatly in need of 
repair. 

“ Well, what is it now ?” asked Kitty, 
shortly. 

Jessie, seizing both her hands, pulled her 
down to a seat beside her, saying : “ I was 
horrid to you a few minutes ago ; I don’t 
know what ailed me to be so ugly. I forgot, 
Kitty, that it was just exactly as you said. I 


198 Miss Janet's Old House. 


owe everything to Miss Page. I should not 
be here but for her ; she established this home 
just on purpose to help people in various 
ways. One thing she wants is to make a 
nice comfortable place for working girls like 
you and me. Now Kitty, I will not tell of 
you at all if you ask me not to do it, only 
don’t stay out again after hours, will you, 
Kitty ?” 

“ Oh, I suppose you were all right,’’ said 
Kitty, relenting perceptibly. “If Miss Page 
makes rules (and she has to have them) they 
must be kept. This is after all no boarding- 
place for me ; it is better for steady, older 
girls, who never want any fun.” 

“ But Miss Page don’t mean that ; she says 
such people can take care of themselves ; but 
girls like us — we need some one to watch us. 
She wants this house to be pleasant.” 

Oh, it is ; the rooms and the food are better 
than I ever had,” said Kitty, slowly twirling 
a flashy ring on her finger, but I was think- 


Here a Little and There a Little. 199 

in g of leaving here, anyway. My friends are 
farther down town, and some of them have 
teased me to-night to go to a boarding-house 
where it is very lively.” 

Jessie tried not to suggest anything of- 
fensive in her tone, as she asked, rather 
plainly : “ Are your friends really the best 

sort of friends ? Are they old ones, whom you 
have known long, and who really care for 
your comfort and health, as your relatives 
would care ?” 

“ No, perhaps not ; but they are well 
enough, nice lively girls, and — ” 

Jessie smiled, but as Kitty did not finish 
her sentence, she asked again : 

“ Hav’n’t you any old friends or relatives 
in the city, Kitty ? ” 

“No, my home was in the country, near 
Philadelphia. Father was a poor carpenter, 
my mother died when I was little. I had a 
step-mother who did not like me, and we 
quarrelled ; then father told me to go and 


200 Miss Janet's Old House . 

earn my living, so I ran away with some 
girls from Philadelphia, and we came here. 
Pve tried to take good care of myself, and 
I’ve always had respectable places. You had 
no right to talk to me as you did to-night,’' 
exclaimed Kitty, suddenly firing into new 
anger. 

“ I know it, and I am sorry. Don’t lay it 
up against me, and don’t stir out of this 
house now, I beg of you ; ” replied Jessie. 

Kitty was easily pacified. She now rose 
and began to walk about ; stopping before the 
little square looking-glass, she gazed into it 
at her own face reflected there, and at Jessie’s 
also, as clearly to be seen. 

“ Jessie, don’t you wish you could have 
pretty dresses, and bright feathers, and lovely 
artificial flowers, and sparkling ear-rings, 
bracelets and necklaces? We are a great 
deal better looking than hundreds of rich 
young ladies. Every day sallow, homely, 
bony girls come into our shop, and buy the 


Here a Little and There a Little . 201 

loveliest silks and laces, that they must look 
horridly in. I don’t see why we must wear 
dingy old clothes, and work so hard just to 
keep ourselves in bread and water.” 

Somebody has been putting such ideas 
into your head, Kitty. Now tell me honest- 
ly, if I am not guessing right ? ” said Jessie. 

Kitty fidgetted about, her cheeks a little 
redder, as she exclaimed, with an evident wish 
to change the subject, “ Oh, don’t you worry. 
I shall not steal any Paris dresses out of the 
shop, I assure you.” 

“ Miss Louise was here to-night,” said 
Jessie, and she asked us all into Miss Page’s 
room to hear her read a story. We are go- 
ing to get up a club here in the house to en- 
joy our evenings at home. It was not a bit 
dull to-night.” 

“ Miss Louise is lovely ; but how easy it is 
for her to be so, with her pleasant life and 
beautiful home. I wonder if she would be as 
good in our places ? What do we have to 


202 Miss Janet's Old House . 

look forward to ? What enjoyment can 
we have, if we don’t take it as we can 
get it ? ” 

Jessie was vaguely troubled. She could 
have staid there all night, and given Kitty 
quite sensible advice, the result both of per- 
sonal experience and judicious teaching ; but 
she felt that some evil influence was working 
unseen for Kitty’s harm. She was impressed 
with the belief that a wiser, firmer Christian 
power than she could exert must be brought to 
bear on the thoughtless girl. All she could 
accomplish just now, was to prevail on Kitty 
to unpack her trunk and to promise not to 
leave the house, as she had threatened. This 
was not an easy task. Kitty tried to evade 
her by forced jesting, to turn her purpose, to 
get rid of her by declaring that she was too 
sleepy to talk. Finally she broke down and 
cried bitterly, confessing that she had prom- 
ised to go to a doubtful kind of boarding- 
house, where she could see a gayer life, and 


Here a Little and There a Little . 203 

go often to concerts, theatres, and have 
“some excitement.” 

Jessie would not leave her until she had 
agreed to remain in her present home for at 
least one month longer. With this conces- 
sion she was forced to be satisfied ; but she 
went back to her own room resolved to put 
Kitty’s case into Miss Louise’s care. 

Kitty, left alone, battled for a long time 
against new, half understood temptations. 
When she thought of the few times that 
Louise had met her, always smiling on her so 
sweetly, she resolved to stay here, to belong 
to her Club, to go on in the old quiet way of 
simple pleasure after hard work. Then 
another impulse would move her. In the 
darkness she seemed to hear the gay music 
of the theatre. She wondered how true the 
words she had heard that night, could be. 
Her voice, if untrained, was very sweet ; 
she was young, and pretty, and graceful. 
Some one had told her that there were 


204 Miss Janet's Old House. 

theatres down town where she could learn to 
be an actress. Such a life must be very full 
of pleasure and excitement. Could she not 
have it, and be good and sensible, like Jessie ? 
She did not want to be bad — she, “ only 
wanted some fun.” Poor Kitty Prior ! 

x * * * * 

Miss Janet Page often, in these days, 
asked herself, if really she could be the same 
solitary maiden lady who one year before 
cared for - nobody, and for whom, as she 
believed, nobody cared. Now the days seem- 
ed scarcely long enough to give her time to 
attend to the varied interests of her new en- 
terprises. So many lives began to touch 
her own, so many hands began to be stretch- 
ed toward her for help. Then, when she had 
least expected it, she was aware of evil aris- 
ing to do battle with good. For instance, 
during the first days of her East-side esta- 
blishment, she had received from the outside 
world only encouragement. The women 


Here a Little and There a Little. 205 

and children of the neighborhood had for her 
smiles, thanks, and blessing. The small 
tradesmen thereabout, were delighted to serve 
her, if not unselfishly, at least with great faith- 
fulness. It was therefore somewhat startling 
to her to find out very early in her new under- 
taking that she had stirred up powerful 
enemies. 

Every rumseller in the street would gladly 
have seen her “Home,” burned to the ground, 
and from the first hostilities began on their 
part. Now a number of workmen who had 
been their steady customers had found that 
a good hot lunch could be had very cheaply 
at the new coffee-room in Miss Page’s house, 
and that with the soup, pork and beans, a cup 
of strong coffee, or whatever they liked could 
be had for three cents. The bar-room was 
neglected for the newer resort. Certain 
young fellows who had enlivened the saloons 
near by, fell into the way of coming even- 
ings to read the books which Miss Page pro- 


2 o 6 Miss Janet's Old House . 

vided ; and in short, temperance work was 
quietly put in operation in a spot previously 
given up to rum-selling and to rum-drinking. 

That this was not a work to be carried on 
undisturbed or inexpensively, soon became 
evident. Every possible annoyance was ex- 
perienced by all in authority in the Home. 
Every pane of glass in every accessible win- 
dow was mud-stained or broken. Threaten- 
ing letters were sent to Miss Page, Miss Nor- 
ton and Mr. Flemming. Malicious persons 
came to the house and appeared well for a 
time, in order to remove all suspicions ; then 
books would be defaced, articles stolen or 
injured and mischief of all sorts done in most 
ingenious ways which could not be provided 
against. Had the chief movers in the 
scheme been impelled by any motives less 
pure than love to God and men, they would 
have been discouraged at the outset. 

Again there were things within the house 
which were exceedingly trying to a person 


Here a Little and There a Little. 207 

of Miss Page’s peculiarities. Louise, remem- 
bering her former impatience, wondered at her 
self-control in these times. Often when some 
person who was getting far more than that 
one could pay for (because Miss Page aimed 
to make her poor people help themselves 
while she helped them more abundantly), 
often such a man or woman would insult her 
with suspicion or treat her with ingratitude. 

She developed much executive ability, 
and more patience; and as Baldwin told 
Dolly : “ It is surprising to see her keep the 
run of matters as she does. She knows the 
details of everything done over there, from 
the coffee used a week to the best way of 
helping every lodger to keep her temper or 
afford a warmer dress.” 

“ Yes, it is a change for the better with 
her, I can testify,” Dolly always replied ; 
“ now she lets me off with so little watching, 
and she trusts me to provide enough to eat, 
even if the apple parings should go to, waste.” 


208 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER XIII. 

louise’s wedding. 

S the winter months went by, Mr. Flem- 



'Hx. m j n g was obliged to be very decided 
in the expression of his wishes. He went so 
far as to declare himself jealous of Louise’s 
new friends and new interests ; while he 
playfully reproached Miss Page for not being 
in haste to have them marry. Miss Janet 
maliciously replied that he could hardly give 
them more of his society if he were married, 
and that she wanted Louise to herself as much 
as possible. Nevertheless, the happiness of 
the young people was constantly in her 
mind, and she planned wisely and generously 
for them. She fully intended to have them 


Louise's Wedding. 


209 

make their home with her ; with the under- 
standing that they gave as much as they re- 
ceived. Mr. Flemming was invaluable to her 
as a counsellor, and Louises bright face and 
buoyant spirits enlivened the house. Now 
when Miss Janet’s duties were done, she 
could rest mind and body in the peaceful 
home-life, with pleasant companionship and 
bright surroundings. It was at last agreed 
that the wedding should take place about 
Easter ; but in the latter part of February 
Mr. Flemming found it desirable to go West 
for a month, in order to give personal atten- 
tion to certain important affairs. 

The day he decided to go he interviewed 
Miss Janet, who heard him with equal 
patience and amusement. When Louise 
came in from* a walk, that afternoon, she 
found her cousin sitting alone in the library. 

“ What a very helpless man Mr. Flemming 
has become,” she remarked. “ He has to 

go on a journey, and he feels perfectly in- 
14 


210 


Miss Janet's Old House. 

capable of takiftg care of himself. I doubt 
if he will ever get anywhere in particular, 
Louise, unless you go and show him the way. 
I am sorry for you, but I have promised to 
make you go as his protector.” 

Naturally enough Louise had much to say 
on this matter, but she sagely concluded : 
“ On the whole, Cousin Janet, it is best, be- 
cause now I can have just as quiet and sen- 
sible a wedding as I like, without the least 
reference to the ‘ style.’ Do you know, 
Cousin Janet, that I am getting the reputa- 
tion of being peculiar?” 

“ Well, so long as you are zealous of good 
works, I don’t know that you need be sorry,” 
replied Miss Page, adding: “ So this settles 
the matter, does it, and I am to be left alone 
for a month ! ” 

For the next ten days there was a little 
bustle and excitement about preparations. 
Miss Page’s eyes grew dim sometimes with 
the memories of her own past, as she busied 


Louise's Wedding. 


21 1 


herself in choosing garments for the fair 
young bride ; who seemed to care for nothing 
“ very grand,” as Dolly remarked, with sur- 
prise. The other house was for the time 
neglected, only that a day or two before the 
wedding, Louise went over there. She had 
resolved to invite the “ Club ” for the com- 
ing occasion. In the weeks past she had 
each week met these young women and had 
come to know every one of them, to feel in 
their welfare a hearty interest. For their 
part, they loved her with a devotion full of 
respect and admiration. 

She had read with them books, which she 
hoped would lift them up and help them ; 
they had profited by the books, but they had 
read her more diligently. Her manner, her 
habits of thought, her speech, had all in- 
fluenced them. 

For none of these humble friends had 
Louise a warmer place in her heart than for 
Kitty Prior. The girl was so impressible, so 


212 Miss Janet s Old House . 

ignorant of the world, so warm-hearted, so 
defenceless against evil. Jessie McCoy had 
told Louise of Kitty’s intention to leave the 
house. From the hour she learned of that, 
Louise aimed at one thing : to gain such a 
hold on Kitty’s affection as to keep her where 
she was ; later she might teach her, but to 
begin with, she must attract her. She did 
not flatter her by injudicious attention, but she 
managed with tact to win her. She often 
kept her after the Club hour was over to talk 
of something. She drew from her, little by 
little, facts of her past and present ; not quite 
all she would like to know, that she might in- 
fluence Kitty, but enough to show her how 
to deal with her. 

This day spoken of Louise left with Jessie 
her invitation for the rest, but finding that 
Kitty was at home, she was moved to ask her 
in person. 

It was late in the afternoon when she tap- 
ped at Kitty’s door, and the latter opened it, 


Loziise s Wedding. 213 

while in the act of taking off her bonnet and 
shawl. 

“You are just home from the shop, I see, 
and you look tired, Kitty. I wont keep you 
from your supper long.” 

“It rests me to see you,” said Kitty, 
heartily ; adding, a little shyly, “ I did not 
think we would see you again very soon.” 

“ Well, I am going away for a few weeks, 
but when I get back you will see me as often 
as ever, I hope.” 

In the pause that ensued, Louise felt, rather 
than saw that Kitty was looking at her face 
and her dress in a wistful, childish way that 
touched her, she hardly knew why. 

“You will be a good girl, while I am 
gone, Kitty, wont you ?” she said, half play- 
fully, laying her hand on the girl’s luxuriant 
brown hair. 

“ Oh, what is the use? — I mean that I 
don’t know how to be really good, and it is 
hard and dull,” said Kitty, her great eyes 


214 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


filling slowly with tears. I don’t mean that I 
want to do anything — any one thing wicked, 
— but — I can’t tell what I mean.” 

“I think I know, Kitty. You get tired 
and lonely, and your life is monotonous. 
What you need is a Friend, such a Friend 
as the Lord Jesus Christ. You promised 
me once, Kitty, to pray for help to do right, 
and wisdom to know what was right. Do 
you pray, Kitty ?” 

“ Sometimes.” 

“ What troubles you most ?” asked Louise, 
gently. 

Kitty stirred uneasily, and then blushing, 
asked a question in return, doing it so timid- 
ly it could not seem impertinent. 

“ You are going to marry a very good man, 
are you not ? Are you happy ?” 

“Yes, I know he is good. I think,” 
laughed Louise, coloring under Kitty’s gaze, 
“ that he is the best man in the world, and 
I am very happy.” 


Louise's Wedding . 215 

“ Couldn’t you like a bad man ?” asked the 
younger girl. 

Some instinct told Louise, that these were 
not aimless questions, and she answered 
slowly : 

“Not if I had known all along that he was 
bad — and I never would marry a man whom 
I did not know to be good, no matter how 
much I liked him.” 

“That is because you are so good your- 
self,” said Kitty, in a depressed tone. 

“ No, Kitty, it is because I know that a bad 
man would make me or you or any woman 
wretched.” 

‘ If he loved m you ?” 

‘ The Bible says, Kitty, that the ‘ tender 
mercies of the wicked are cruel and in the 
same sense you may say, that the love of a 
bad man is, after all, like the man himself.” 

The twilight was deepening in the room, 
and Kitty felt the atmosphere, of sympathy 


2 1 6 Miss Janet's Old House. 

which Louise brought with her. Clasping 
her small hands nervously, she said : 

“There is a man — I know him pretty well 
— he wants to marry me. — I am so tired of 
the shop — I like him, and he seems good, 
that is, not in your way, but he is generous 
and pleasant. He means all fair, for he is no 
higher in the world than I am — but — he — 
drinks, and gambles, and swears.” 

“ O Kitty ! Kitty ! He would make you 
perfectly miserable. He would drag you 
through poverty and sin,” exclaimed Louise ; 
and seizing the young girl’s hand, she plead 
with her as with a sister, to give up all 
thought of the man. Perhaps at no other 
time could she have been so eloquent ; but 
now, on the eve of her own marriage, with 
one whom she reverenced with her whole 
heart, the realization of what Kitty’s lot 
might be filled her with horror. 

“ I know how it seems to you,” sighed 
Kitty. 


Louise's Wedding. 2 1 7 

“And you will give him up for your own 
sake, wont you ?” 

“ I don’t — know. If I were good like you 
he would seem — worse to me — I suppose. 
Now I love him.” 

“That was all that Louise could get from 
the girl, in the way of confidence or promise, 
and she was forced to leave her, as the hour 
grew late. She rose at last to go, and invited 
Kitty to her wedding. 

“ I have never been among very grand 
people,” said Kitty, lighting the gas. “ I 
thank you ever so much, but I should not 
know what to do.” 

“You can come with Jessie, and the rest, 
and you wont see any very grand people,” 
replied Louise ; then she stood a moment, 
impelled to make one more appeal. Kitty, in 
her youth, her vigor, her beauty — alas, one 
could wish that for her own good she were 
plainer ! Kitty was free now ; must she 
become a drunkards wife, and know all 


218 Miss Janet's Old House. 

the bitter suffering which that fate compre- 
hends ? 

Kitty saw her troubled face in the new 
light, and exclaimed : 

“ Don’t worry over me, dear Miss Norton. 
— Perhaps it will be all right. He may get 
tired and stop teasing me to marry him.” 

Louise had no hope of that, for even as 
the girl spoke, her cheeks were like pink 
oleander blossoms, her whole face, one that a 
painter would have delighted to put on can- 
vas. 

“ What is his name ? Will you tell me, 
Kitty ?” 

“ Well — I would rather not, now. Some- 
time,” 

Just then some one came to say that Mr. 
Flemming was waiting in the office for Miss 
Norton, and the conversation ended. 

She found him alone, having come to 
take her home ; but they lingered a moment 
by Miss Page’s desk. 


Louise's Wedding . 


219 


“ What makes you look so sad ?” asked 
the gentleman, with some affectionate ad- 
ditional remarks. 

“ I have just seen another poor girl who 
has an idea of marrying,” replied Louise, 
half laughing, as she went on. “ I did my 
best to discourage her, but I am afraid it will 
be of no avail.” 

“No doubt a similar labor with you might 
be as fruitless.” 

“ No, it would not. If any one could talk 
to me as reasonably as I plead with Kitty 
Prior to-night, I would not marry.” 

“When I deliver you to Miss Page to- 
night it will be with strict charge that she 
lock you up until our wedding-day. I will 
have no reasonable talkers laboring with 
you. Forewarned is forearmed, in my case,” 
exclaimed Mr. Flemming, with comical em- 
phasis. 

“ You need not be afraid. I have counted 
the cost,” said Louise. Then seeing that 


220 Miss Janet's Old House . 

her companion was not in haste to end the 
dialogue, she added: “ Come, I have stayed 
too long here already. Cousin Janet will be 
wondering why I am late.” 

They started then for home, but at the foot 
of the stairs, Louise discovered Don. The 
moment he saw her his face took on such an 
intense appealing look, that she was sure 
he had something unusual to communicate. 
This was not so, for all he said was : “ Good 
evening !” 

An idea struck her, and at the outer door 
she turned back, saying : “ Don, you may 

come over to our house Thursday evening, 
and ask Dolly to let you come in.” 

She was about to add that he might get a 
treat of cakes and ice cream, but the sudden 
radiant light in his longing eyes told her that 
he had been fully informed as to what would 
go on at the time mentioned ; and also that 
he had received what he wished. 

Now, although a wedding is one of the 


Louise's Wedding. 


221 


most interesting affairs in the world to the 
parties concerned in it, the account of that 
wedding to outsiders is seldom worth narrat- 
ing. A few things made Miss Norton’s wed- 
ding “ party ” exceptionally pleasant. It was, 
as the guests said among themselves, so 
“ old fashioned.” Louise had left all ar- 
rangements except the selection of friends to 
be invited, entirely to Miss Page, who knew 
little about and cared nothing for modern 
fashions. Naturally she had carried out all 
the ideas of her early life ; and while all was 
on the generous scale of old time hospitality, 
many were the quaint pretty devices which 
she revived. Her rooms were filled with 
people invited because they were wanted, not 
because she feared to slight them for any 
social reason. All the old friends she had 
once been associated with were there. Louise 
had searched them out so faithfully that more 
than once in the week past Miss Janet had 
laughingly protested: “It is not my wed- 


222 Miss Janet's Old House . 

ding party ; you will leave no room for your 
friends and for Mr. Flemming.” 

But while gray heads were plenty, there 
were scores of bright young girls, pupils of 
Louise, and a host of Mr. Flemming’s parish- 
ioners. When the simply dressed young 
women from the old house entered the bril- 
liant rooms, their timidity and fear of “ grand 
people ” soon vanished, for there were plenty 
of plain folks beside themselves. Mr. Flem- 
ming was going about among his friends, and 
Louise had not thought it necessary to shut 
herself away for an imposing entrance just 
before the moment of the ceremony. She 
came among her friends with the sweet sim- 
plicity of manner which never forsook her. 
The old people to whom she was a stranger 
whispered to one another about her beauty ; 
for to-night her eyes were like stars, and the 
beautiful color came and went in her rare face. 
The young ones could not sufficiently admire 
her dress, and they decided that it was of 


Louise's Wedding. 


223 


a style very new and very exquisite. Nobody 
knew that Louise had meant to have a “ good 
enough dress,” as she told Miss Janet, “but 
not one too fine for a poor minister’s wife.” 

Miss Page had listened to her in a preoc- 
cupied way, and then said : “ I remember a 
beautiful wedding dress that I — saw once, 
soft and silky, with creamy lace, but I cannot 
think of that dress pleasantly. I would like 
to see another somewhat like it on a happy 
bride, and forever after think of it in connec- 
tion with everything bright and good — with 
the beginning of united Christian lives. I am 
not often so sentimental, Louise, so won’t you 
let me get ready your wedding-dress ? ” 

The young girl thought she understood 
this whim of the gray -haired spinster, and 
consented without a protest ; so to-night Jes- 
sie McCoy and Kitty Prior assured one an- 
other that she was the “ loveliest,” as she was 
the best “ young lady,” they had ever seen. 
One other person there present agreed with 


224 Miss Janet's Old House. 

them heartily ; for as Mr. Flemming chatted 
here and there with old and young, he seldom 
lost Louise out of his sight. 

When Miss Janet’s quaint clock in the hall 
struck eight, a bent old man with snow-white 
hair, came forward before the younger minister 
and his chosen bride. Only the oldest per- 
sons there knew him by name, but every one 
fancied that some peculiar emotion thrilled 
his tremulous tones with a subtle sympathy 
as he performed the marriage ceremony. 
Before he ended, just one old person in that 
crowded room taxed her memory successfully, 
and whispered to her venerable husband : 

‘Why, John, don’t you know him now? 
He was Miss Page’s old pastor years and 
years ago. He was to have officiated at her 
own wedding, that grand affair that never 
came off, for some reason nobody ever found 
out and John nodded his head vigorously, 
peering through his spectacles, not at the sweet 
bride this time, but at the little woman at her 


Louise's Wedding. 


225 


left hand, whose bright eyes were dim, 
though her wrinkled face was very peaceful. 

After the wedding formalities came re- 
freshments, music, and plenty of merriment, 
if there was no dancing, no wine drinking, 
no fashionable folly of the usual sort. Every 
guest received due attention, and from the 
fact that Kaiser stalked deliberately through 
the parlor during the evening, Louise argued 
that his young master was somewhere near 
enjoying himself. 

When it came time to go home, Jessie and 
Kitty watched their chance to bid their friend 
an unobserved good-by, and to beg her not 
to forget them after she returned from her 
journey. 

“No, indeed, I shall not/' said Louise, 
while for each she had a few kind words ; 
giving to Kitty a last word of warning as she 
pressed her hand. 

It was somewhat late when the little party 

of young women from the Home left Miss 
15 


226 Miss Janet's Old House . 

Page’s, but there were enough of them not 
to need any escort, so they refused Bald- 
win’s offer to go with them, and started away 
together. Jessie and Kitty happened to 
head the procession ; Don and Kaiser to be 
at the end of it. 

A few steps from Miss Page’s door a man 
passed them. In approaching them the gas- 
light fell full on his face, showing it plainly 
to Kitty, who, unseen herself, instantly turn- 
ed and changed partners on some trivial ex- 
cuse. The man in passing half halted by Jes- 
sie, who in figure much resembled Kitty ; 
then seeing Jessie’s face, he walked on at 
once, scanning closely, however, the whole 
group. Coming suddenly on Don and Kaiser, 
he quickly pulled his slouched hat lower over 
his face, walking on rapidly after that. Don, 
nevertheless, had a second’s glance at him, and 
Kaiser stopped, turned his head and whim- 
pered, as if to say : “ We know him, don’t we, 
Don ? ’’ 


Louise's Wedding. 


22 7 


Don stood still in surprise, then dashing 
past the others, he caught Jessie by her 
sleeve, exclaiming : “ I believe I saw that Van 
just now ! He passed us, and Kaiser knew 
him too. I’ve a good mind to run back and 
tell Baldwin or the police. Shall I, Jessie ? ” 
Jessie did not understand at once. It was 
Kitty who cried, in a startled way : 

“ Police — tell them — what for? ” 

“Why the burglar that got in Miss Page’s 
that time — or the one they are sure stole the 
silver. They never could catch him ! ” 

Kitty gave a shrill laugh, then broke out 
vehemently : 

“Oh, you goose, Don! If you mean the 
man who just passed, I know him myself — • 
by sight. He is,” — she went on nervously — 
“ he is a man who often comes to the shop 
where I work ; his name is not Van, at all. 
You’ll get yourself into a fine pickle, 
pointing out burglars of that sort to the 
police.” 


228 Miss Janets Old House. 

“ He looked like the man who used to be 
with Harry, any way.” 

“ This was not a bad-looking man,” said 
Jessie, bewildered by Don’s words. “ He 
stared at me as he passed, and I saw him 
plainly.” 

“ But you never saw Van, anyway,” said 
Don. 

“ Is that so, Jessie?” asked Kitty, quickly; 
and when Jessie answered : “ I never saw 
him,” Kitty turned again to Don, saying, in 
an emphatic way : 

“ Well, now, Don, come on ; we wont stir 
up the police to-night. A wedding ought to 
be excitement enough for us.” 

They all agreed, laughing, and went on, 
while Kitty’s tongue rattled with unusual 
energy. Don had supplied her with a text, 
from which she drew many illustrations. 
She told half a dozen stories of mistakes in 
identifying persons, and of very awkward 
predicaments into which people had brought 


Lou ises Wedd ing. 229 

themselves by saying that they recognized 
individuals who proved to be total strangers 
to them. Before they reached home, Don 
was fully persuaded that he would have been 
exceedingly foolish to have acted on his first 
impulse and set any one on the track of his 
supposed burglar. 

Don was very fond of Kitty. She was al- 
ways good-natured ; then she was so pretty, 
that the child, who had something like an 
artist’s love of beauty, always yielded to any 
passing influence Kitty happened to exert. 
When they all entered the house together, a 
little later, Kitty drew him somewhat away 
from the others, saying : 

“ I want to speak to you, Don.” 

The little fellow followed her at once, and 
listened to her attentively. 

“ Don,” she began, excitedly, “of course 
it is a great pity, that burglar should have 
got away, but he did escape, and all the 
silver is probably scattered now fco the four 


230 Miss Janet's Old House . 

winds. The awful part of it all was the death 
of your brother, and that can never be undone. 
Now, if the burglar should be caught, it 
would all have to come out, before everybody 
in court, and be put in the papers, that 
your brother was another thief, or meant to 
be one. What is the use of that disgrace 
on Jessie? He was her own brother, you 
know. Now don’t talk any more of this to 
anybody or before anybody, will you ? These 
people in the house never need to have 
known of it. Only a few do know it.” 

Don saw the force of Kitty’s words, and 
promised her to be more reserved in the 
future. 

“ Besides,” said she, with a winning smile, 
“ think of the trouble you might make for 
some innocent man or his friends, by setting 
policemen on his track, or even letting it be 
thought that he was a suspicious character. 
I did not take time to-night, to tell you all 
I know of this man who passed us ; he is a 


Louise s Wedding . 


231 


particular friend of — some of my friends.” 

“ All right, I’ll remember ; but he did look 
like that Van, though, of course you know.” 

“ Of course,” said Kitty, dispatching him 
with a friendly good-night; then calling him 
back, she asked in an indifferent tone, a great 
many questions about this Van, the burglar. 


232 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE RETREAT. 

jypSS JANET PAGE missed her “ two 
hands,” as she was accustomed to call 
Louise and Mr. Flemming, and during their 
absence she experienced many little annoy- 
ances from the rumsellers. Several times 
when she had lingered late in the afternoon 
at the Home, half-grown boys had crowded 
her off the pavement, missiles had been 
thrown at her from alleys, or on reaching 
home she had found her dresses cut, stained, 
or slyly injured in some way. Each time she 
resolved to start home by broad daylight, on 
the next occasion, but she continually forgot 
her resolutions, not being naturally timid. 


The Retreat. 


233 


One evening, as she was starting away 
from the old house, Don joined her with 
Kaiser, saying : “ There is an awful set of 
roughs around here after dark, Miss Page, 
so I’m going to the cars with you. You 
ought to have Baldwin come for you.” 

Miss Janet had to laugh at the patronizing 
tone of her small escort, and she could not 
help saying : “ If the roughs attacked me, 
Don, what would you do ? ” 

“ He might do something, if I couldn’t,” 
said Don, patting the great head of the dog, 
who was getting to be a monstrous fellow. 

“ I don’t know about Kaiser, for he let 
that burglar go past him into my house the 
night you went out of it, you remember.” 

“Yes — but you see Kaiser knew him. 
Harry had made him suppose Van was all 
right ; how could he tell what Van meant to 
do ?” 

“Well, I don’t suppose we can expect 
either Kaiser or his master to know every- 


234 Miss Janet's Old House. 

thing,” returned Miss Page, laying her hand 
kindly on the pretty boy’s head. ‘‘Yes, I 
would like your company as far as the cars.” 

While they walked along, she asked him 
questions, and told him that he must soon be- 
gin going to school. She did not observe 
that several children issued from under cover 
now and then, with mud or rotten apples in 
their upraised hands, or that Don at such 
times went through a sort of pantomine which 
caused them to retire. 

Kaiser was too agreeable a friend, and too 
powerful an enemy to stir up needlessly. 
As to Kaiser himself, he was apparently not 
aware of the effect he produced, for he trotted 
hither and thither, peering into basements, 
racing into alleys, following canine acquain- 
tances, and occasionally tripping up some rap- 
id walker in the twilight. They were about 
half through the street when two hard look- 
ing young fellows passed them ; one stared 
sharply at Miss Janet, and down at her hands, 


The Retreat. 


235 


then at the child with her. It was Miss Ja- 
net’s habit to carry a small black bag, not at 
all conspicuous. In this bag she had fre- 
quently considerable money — contrary to the 
advice of Mr. Flemming and of Baldwin. 
To-night she had there about fifty dollars. 
As the rough fellows passed her she clutched 
the handle of the bag tighter, a motion they 
could not but notice. They w ; ent on, however, 
and in a moment she forgot them. A few 
steps farther she came under the shadow of 
an immense dark factory, closed for the night, 
and here she was almost out of the range of 
the gas-light. She did not hear any one 
cross the road ; did not have a suspicion that 
she had been followed, until she was seized 
from behind and her arms pinioned close to 
her body, while a second assailant snatched 
the bag from her. As this last one turned 
to run, and Miss Janet was giving a loud cry 
for help, he knocked Don aside with a vig- 
orous push. Nothing could have been more 


236 Miss Janets Old House . 

fortunate, for Kaiser did not wait for the or- 
der that would have come too late. Enraged 
at the violence done his master, he sprang 
like lightning at the rough, and held him with 
a grip that hurt, or the instant groan of pain 
was no proof. The bag dropped unheeded 
from the fellow’s grasp. Don shrieked 
“ Police !” and “ Hold fast, Kaiser !” Miss Ja- 
net, who found herself all at once released, join- 
ed in Don’s cry, when suddenly some person, 
unseen, but not remote, gave the low soft 
whistle, which Don always gave to call off 
Kaiser, and then the dog was ordered to 
“ Let go, Kaiser ! Let go ! ” 

The dog dropped to the pavement. The 
fellow he had held fled fast after the other, 
who had already started, and while Miss Ja- 
net stood trembling, scarcely comprehending 
what had happened, and what had ceased, 
Don had picked up the bag, because Kaiser 
was sniffing at it. But what Don could not 
understand was who had called his dog, and 


The Retreat. 


237 


whom had the dog obeyed. At that mo- 
ment, Miss Janet did not care ; it was 
enough that the ruffians were gone, and that 
she was safe. Hearing not far ahead the 
tinkle of a coming car bell, she hastened 
forward, reaching the avenue, which was well 
lighted and thronged with people. She stop- 
ped for breath and let the first car pass, her 
fright abating. 

“ Don,” she exclaimed, “ I am glad, I as- 
sure you, that you came with me. I shall 
not forget my brave little friend, but don’t 
you talk about this at the house. It will 
worry my friends, and then again, told of on 
the street it might put it into somebody’s 
head to attempt this some other time. I 
shall not pass through the street alone again 
so late.” 

Don promised to keep quiet in regard to 
the affair, and went home puzzling over the 
dog call. 

About the time that Miss Janet took the 


23 8 Miss Janets Old House . 


car, Kitty Prior came out of her room dressed 
for a walk ; she met Jessie in the hall, and the 
latter said: “What do you think, Kitty ! I 
have had the loveliest letter to-day from Miss 
Louise ! or Mrs. Flemming, I must get used to 
calling her that. Think of her spending time 
on her bridal trip to write to us ; for one half 
of it is to you. I would give it to you now if 
you were not going out. I wish you were 
not, for I want you to show me how to cro- 
chet that edge. A woman in a fancy store 
offered to buy some of me when I was match- 
ing my thread to a bit you made.” 

Kitty looked half tempted to stay ; she 
pushed back the old plaid shawl from her 
shapely shoulders, hesitated, then said : “ I 
was going out to spend the evening, but 
I won’t do it now. I will only go to the 
Avenue for a few linen collars I need, and 
then come back.” 

It seemed to Jessie that even at that point 
she would have remained, but there was really 


The Retreat \ 


239 


no reason to urge her to do this, if she would 
come back soon ; so Jessie left her at the 
door. As Kitty went out she glanced at the 
clock, and once outside the door she hurried 
over the pavement, glancing constantly at 
pedestrians on the opposite side. She had 
been out but a few minutes, when a well- 
dressed man struck across the street and 
joined her, saying : “ Well, Kitty, you do 
keep your word sometimes.” 

“ I am only going to stay out a few min- 
utes, Tom, and I should not have come 
now, only — ” 

“ Only you knew I wanted to see your 
pretty face.” 

“No, I wanted to ask you something; 
when I have done it I am going back.” 

“ Getting too high-toned to spend half an 
hour walking with a fellow who can’t see you 
when you are at work, and is not fine enough 
to visit your family mansion ?” laughed her 


240 Miss Janet's Old House • 

companion ; but his manner, if familiar, was 
not offensive. 

“ Tom, do you know any man that people 
call Van ?” asked Kitty, sternly. 

“ Oh, a dozen Vans, easily — yes, fifty of 
them ; every third Dutchman in the city is a 
Van.” 

They came to a gas light then and the girl 
scanned his face keenly. It was not an ugly 
face, it was dark, clean-shaven, with well 
shaped features, and black eyes, which Kitty 
had seen look very pleasantly on her ; but it 
was a face not to be read by her. If Don 
were here, it is possible that he could easily 
be made to confess that he must be mistaken 
in saying that this was the Van whom he had 
known. Whoever or whatever this man was, 
one thing would have been evident to an ob- 
server, he was very fond of Kitty. 

“ Do you know Miss Janet Page, and 
where she lives ?” was her next question. 

“ She is the scare-crow of a landlady in 


The Retreat . 


241 


the grand hotel of yours, isn’t she? No, I 
never saw her. I must drop in and take a 
meal there some day.” 

“ Do you know the McCoys? There was 
a Harry McCoy.” 

“No,” returned Tom coolly, adding, as he 
took her arm : “ It is easy to see you are from 
the country, for you think I know every- 
body you hear of in the city.” 

She was silent a little while, then she sud- 
denly pulled away from him, saying: “I 
wish you would let me alone, Tom ; I will not 
marry you until I am sure you are telling me 
everything about yourself. Where is your 
mother ? Let me see her. I am afraid of 
you.” 

“ Because you saw me a little high that 
one evening ; but Kitty, I never was really 
drunk in my life ; as for the other yarns you 
have heard about me, they are lies. I can see 
you don’t half believe in me, but you will. 
Now you find some priest or minister — you 

16 


242 Miss Janet's Old House. 

are not a Catholic — so let us get any man you 
want in some of these chapels around here, 
and marry me, with no more fuss about it.” 

So the talk ran on. The Van whom Don 
knew had not used pleasant tones or good 
language ; but this Tom was evidently as- 
suming nothing in voice or manner, what- 
ever he might be concealing. 

He told Kitty to-night of his early home, 
humble as her own, but respectable ; he de- 
clared his trade was that of a carpenter, but 
now he was an “agent,” for a business lately 
started. 

He gradually gleaned from Kitty the story 
of her conversation with Louise, of her desire 
to be a good girl, in a higher, better sense, 
than simply to be a respectable girl, and he 
saw just what was working against him. 
He was angry at this opposition from outside 
Kitty’s self, and resolved to test his power 
against it; yet while he was bad, he was not 
wholly bad. The love he felt for Kitty was 


The Retreat . 


243 


the best thing he had known of himself for 
years, and he did not think it could harm her. 
When she was his wife he would not let her 
know any more evil of him than he could 
help. He called her '‘a good little thing,” 
and he liked her to be good, but not too good 
to marry him. 

Their walk was long, and their talk with- 
out present results. Kitty tried to provoke 
him, but he saw her aim, and kept good-na- 
tured. At last she insisted that she must go 
home, and he left her a few rods from the 
door. He retraced his steps to the end of 
the block, then turned into a saloon. 

“ McGinnis’s Retreat,” was known as the 
most flourishing rum-shop, in the neighbor- 
hood. The police considered it one of the 
worst holes in the city — although from the 
street it seemed a cleaner, more orderly 
place, than many another saloon near by. 
McGinnis, himself, was a smooth-tongued 
Irish politician, who had been shrewd enough 


244 Miss Janet's Old House . 

to make both politics and rumselling pay 
well. He owned the whole tenement house 
of which the saloon occupied the lower floor. 
The “hotel,” was on the second floor, while 
all the stories above were let to a constant 
succession of tenants, whose goods were for- 
ever being held for rent. In connection with 
the establishment, was a miserable sort of a 
restaurant, which had been, in the past, a 
lucrative part of the business. It commu- 
nicated with the bar-room, and the workmen 
from the various factories about here, who 
came to get a bite at noon, patronized both 
impartially. Of late, to McGinnis’s great dis- 
gust, the restaurant business had fallen off. 
Getting a hint of the cause, he had sent out 
spies, who returned with altogether too favor- 
able accounts of the enemy’s land. McGin- 
nis’s coffee was a slop, his meats tough, his 
pastry supplied from a fifth- rate bakery ; and 
now, to learn that this “ crazy old maid,” was 
furnishing delicious coffee, and well-cooked 


The Retreat. 


245 


food, at half his prices, was exasperating. 
It added to his wrath to hear that her rooms 
were warm and light ; that there were books 
and newspapers which her patrons might read, 
and in fact “ traps,” of all sorts to catch his 
old friends. 

To-night, when Tom entered the bar-room, 
McGinnis was smoking his pipe, and sat 
with his chair tipped against the wall, as he 
watched Bob and Bill, his bar-tenders, or 
chatted with some of the callers. He greet- 
ed Tom very cordially, for Tom was a favor- 
ite here. He always had money, was not 
stingy, was never drunk enough to be dis- 
orderly, knew the world after a fashion, so 
that he could teach McGinnis something 
occasionally, and could keep his own coun- 
sel. 

McGinnis took his pipe out of his mouth 
and remarked : 

“ I’m after havin’ a foine idee.” 

Tom nodded his willingness to know it, and 


246 Miss Janet's Old Hotise. 

McGinnis proceeded to explain his plans in 
a tone loud enough to be heard by any who 
chose to listen. He declared that he was 
going to make grand improvements. He 
would turn his restaurant into a concert 
saloon ; then he should hire some “beautiful 
young ladies,” to serve as waiters ; and for 
the diversion of the friends of his establish- 
ment, he would give frequent balls, and sim- 
ilar popular entertainments. 

“Of course you’ll give ’em all to us for 
nothin’,” grunted a burly fellow, as he sat 
down an empty glass. “If you don’t, we’ll 
go to the old woman’s show down the street. 
She has hired a temperance lecturer for next 
month, and they say he beats any actor on 
the boards.” 

McGinnis swore and relapsed into sulky si- 
lence. Two vicious looking fellows, talking to- 
gether in a corner, looked up at this mention 
of Miss Page, and seeing Tom for the first 


The Retreat . 


247 


time, one nudged the other. This last grin- 
ned, and approaching Tom, said: 

“ Much obliged. If you hadn’t happened 
along with that whistle of yours ” 

“You’d have started soon for the country 
seat on the Island. You are two fools to try 
such games.” 

“ We didn’t know the dog was going to 
play too ; that made the hitch — everything 
was going fine. How came the beast to 
know you so well ?” 

Instead of answering, Tom turned away to 
get a drink. He was about to go out on the 
street again, when McGinnis called him back 
to get his opinion on the improvements, and to 
ask his help in a certain task. Tom’s sug- 
gestions were the result of much experience. 
He had frequented concert saloons from San 
Francisco all across the continent, and his 
advice delighted the rumseller. In one re- 
spect, however, the latter was disappointed. 
He had decided to undertake something 


2 48 Miss Janet's Old House 

which might be profitable to him and annoy- 
ing to Miss Janet Page. It was not possible 
for a girl so pretty as Kitty Prior to pass 
daily through this street without attracting 
attention. When McGinnis learned that 
she was a shop girl, boarding at the hated 
new Home, it occurred to him that he 
might, by the offer of high wages and 
an easy life, induce her to come and act 
as chief waitress in his proposed saloon. 
At the same time Kitty seemed so quiet and 
so self-respecting, that he perceived she could 
not be drawn in to his plans at a moment’s 
notice. He resolved to get Tom to act as 
his agent in the matter. Tom could make 
her acquaintance, and after a while tell 
her of this situation, where she could make 
twice as much money as she now made 
at hard work in a dingy shop. 

McGinnis added that there was another 
pretty brown-haired girl who lived in the old 
house before Miss Page altered it, and that 


The Retreat . 


249 


he had no objections to having her as well as 
Kitty. 

He unfolded his projects to Tom, at full 
length, and was much chagrined to find the 
younger man not at all favorably impressed, 
for some reason, which McGinnis could not 
easily make out. He was forced to let the 
matter drop, without getting any promise 
from Tom to help him. 

Had McGinnis or any of his cronies to 
whom Tom’s face was familiar, and who often 
chatted with him — had one of them been 
asked to tell all that was known of Tom, he 
could have told next to nothing. This was 
of no consequence, however ; McGinnis’s 
friends were not required to bring any cre- 
dentials. 

This was the last evening that Miss Page 
attempted to go through the street without a 
strong protector ; and from this night she 
well understood that her new enterprises 
were not to be carried on easily. Time 


250 Miss Janet's Old House. 

would fail to tell of all the petty persecutions 
she and her friends were forced to undergo. 
The temperance lecturer, of whom the fellow 
in McGinnis’s saloon had spoken, was an 
eloquent, warm-hearted man, a friend of Mr. 
Flemming. He had offered to give a weekly 
lecture in the Home to all who could be 
gathered in there from the street. The first 
week fifty men, women and children came to 
hear him, and five were induced to sign the 
pledge. News of this found its way to the 
various rum-holes along the street, and was 
highly displeasing to their proprietors. * The 
lecture had but just begun on the following 
week, when a window was pushed violently 
up, and in dashed a savage great yellow dog, 
forcibly propelled from without the window. 

* Kaiser, who was decorously seated by his 
master’s side, sprang at the ugly intruder, 
who being a fighter by profession, began to 
fight then and there. 

The women and children screamed, the 


The Retreat . 


251 


men and boys, who a moment before were 
quiet and orderly, forgot all decency and re- 
spect toward the speaker. The dogs could 
not be separated, and poor Miss Page was 
terribly shaken in her nerves before the po- 
lice arrived and cleared the place of the en- 
tire audience ; disabling the yellow dog with 
clubs and dealing some hard blows to poor 
Kaiser. This was but one of countless such 
annoyances that Miss Page had to endure 
while Mr. Flemming was absent, but she 
mentioned none of them in her letters. 

She did write him about a week before his 
return, that McGinnis had enlarged his 
borders, had painted and decorated his es- 
tablishment, done away with his restaurant, 
and gave instead “ free lunches.” Worst of 
all, he had in full operation a place of danc- 
ing, card playing, and low amusements, 
where every night lively music invited the 
people of the miserable neighborhood to 
come and be entertained. 


252 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE CONCERT SALOON. 

warm day about the last of March, 
Kitty Prior was selling goods at the 
“notion counter,” in “ Peters and Jones’, 

shop, on Avenue. Everything had 

gone wrong with her for a week or more. 
This state of things began with a series of 
thefts committed at this counter by some 
person as yet undiscovered. Each girl had 
been examined, was watched, and felt herself 
insulted. For this last fact no one in author- 
ity cared ; the busiest season was past, more 
than a third of the girls were to be dis- 
missed soon, and Kitty had been losing favor 
with her employers. She had more spirit 
than her companions, who living in unwhole- 


The Concert Saloon. 


253 


some tenement houses and eating scanty, mis- 
erable food, were for the most part meek and 
flabby creatures. Twice Kitty had lost a 
chance to sell something by admitting that one 
article was “half” cotton and that another 
would “ fade,” and to-day, in the presence of 
a “ floor-walker,” she had again offended. A 
woman was buying tape, and Kitty, instead 
of bringing down a great box of it from over 
her head, had been showing samples of it in 
all widths. 

“ Why don’t you put me down the box, 
and let me pick it out myself?” snapped the 
woman, crossly. 

“ I’ve shown you every sort we keep,” re- 
turned Kitty, adding, “ the box is heavy, and 
after lifting boxes down for hours, my arms 
ache.” 

“ I thought you were here to sell goods,” 
retorted the other, coarsely, and because she 
was tired, warm, and wickedly thoughtless, 
she remarked to the floor- walker soon after, 


254 Miss Janet's Old House . 

that, “some of the clerks were too delicate 
to attend to their business,” — indicating 
Kitty. 

A few hours after Kitty was coolly dis- 
missed, as were two other girls from the 
same counter. 

“ I don’t know what we will do now,” 
sighed one, drearily. “ The dull season is 
coming on, and I have not a cent laid up ; 
have you, Kitty ?” 

“When I pay my room rent to-night, and 
buy my supper, I shall have sixty cents left. 

I bought a common dress and a pair of shoes 
yesterday.” 

“ Last summer was dreadful,” groaned the 
third young girl, a fair, delicate child, for she 
looked scarcely more than fourteen. “ I lost 
my place just as I have now, and all I could get 
to do, was making button-holes in a little hot 
shop for a woman who paid me a penny for 
two, and I never could earn over twenty cents 
a day. If I did not make them slowly and 


The Concert Saloon. 


255 


well, she would not pay me. I hate such liv- 
ing. In this great rich city, why can’t it be — 
different ?” And poor Fanny, turned fiercely 
on Kitty, who answered her only iVitli a bit- 
ter laugh. 

A moment after she said : 

“Did you tell me, once, you could make 
artificial flowers ?” 

“Yes — some kinds. I worked at that 
once.” 

“ Well, I have the number of a place where 
they hire girls for such work. I can’t do it 
myself, so I don’t know why I kept the ad- 
dress,” said Kitty, “but come with me, Fan, 
and I will give it to you.” 

Fanny agreed willingly, so Kitty and she 
soon parted from their disconsolate compan- 
ion, and went toward home. 

“ What will you do ?” persisted Fanny. 

“ I tell you I don’t know !” returned Kitty, 
moodily. 

“ How warm it is,” exclaimed Fanny. 


256 Miss Janet's Old House. 

“ Here it is only March, but it smells like 
summer already.” 

Again Kitty gave that mirthless laugh 
before she 'said : 

“ If you had ever been in the country in 
the spring, you would know that it is the 
city, and not the coming summer that you 
smell.” 

“ I suppose it must be so,” assented Fanny, 
as borne on the warm evening air there came 
sickening odors from dirty tenement halls, 
where doors stood open, and viler odors still 
from cellars and alley ways. 

The girls walked on rather languidly ; but 
in time they came near McGinnis’s saloon. 
Now the proprietor of the establishment, 
failing to secure Tom’s help, had confided 
his failure to his wife. Mrs. McGinnis was 
a strapping, great Irish woman, who kept 
house on the second floor, and who was as 
proud of McGinnis as if he were an. aider- 
man — indeed she saw no reason why he 


The Concert Saloon . 


257 


might not in time attain to that office. She 
also saw no reason why Kitty Prior should 
not be easily induced to enter their employ, 
and she made up her mind “ to keep an eye. 
out for the girl.” 

To-night she espied her coming slowly 
toward the saloon, and the moment seemed 
propitious. She flung a little shawl over her 
head, seized a pot of potatoes off the fire 
lest they burn, and rushed down-stairs, leav- 
ing a youthful McGinnis roaring after her 
like a bull of Bashan. She drew the girls in- 
to a quiet corner, and in her most wheedling 
way, attacked Kitty with definite proposals. 
She represented her husband’s business as a 
very commendable and lucrative occupation, 
respectable to the last degree. First with 
Irish blarney, she flattered Kitty, telling her 
that her face would be her fortune ; then she 
pitied poor shop girls, standing “ wid’ niver a 
minute to thimselves,” from morning till night. 

So while both girls listened to her in silence 
17 


258 Miss Janet's Old House . 

and surprise, she offered Kitty, in behalf of 
her husband, regular wages for work, which, 
as she explained it, did seem “light.” Ac- 
cording to Mrs. McGinnis, Kitty, who must 
leave the Home, and come to her, would 
have to help her a little during the day, and 
at night she might “ dress in her best.” She 
would then be expected to do service in the 
concert saloon, securing custom for Mc- 
Ginnis. The wages offered Kitty were 
double those previously earned in the shops. 
Was she tempted ? 

Yes, and No. She did not want to sell 
liquor — she had a vague idea that concert 
saloons were bad — very bad places ; but Mrs. 
McGinnis seemed a respectable woman, and 
she could live under her protection. If the 
saloon were miles away from the Home — but 
at thought of the Home she remembered 
Louise Flemming. Would she exchange 
her friendship for the companionship of this 
blatant red-faced rumsellers wife? Under 


The Concert Saloon . 259 

the influence of that inevitable question, she 
firmly refused Mrs. McGinnis’s offers. 

Fanny, the shop girl, who had been listen- 
ing, exclaimed at this point : 

“You are a goose, Kitty ! I’ll go in a min- 
ute, Mrs. McGinnis, if you will take me.” 

“ No — Fanny, don’t,” said Kitty, quickly, 
although she scarcely knew why. 

Mrs. McGinnis, a little hotly, bade her not 
be a “ dog in the manger,” and Fanny her- 
self retorted : “ Why shouldn’t I ? I want a 
chance for my life ! I’m tired to death of 
shops.” 

“ True for you, darlin’,” said the woman, 
turning to give her a long, shrewd survey. 

Her pale cheeks were flushed pink with 
the heat and her present excitement. She 
looked very pretty and girlish, save for the 
dark rings under her eyes. 

“ We’ve a place for two more girls, and 
I might persuade McGinnis to take ye, only 
you’re not strong, I am sure o’ that, and he 


260 Miss Janets Old House. 

couldn’t be after payin’ ye so much as this 
foolish one here is a sayin’ ; no, the more is 
the pity for her. You’re no end silly,” she 
added, returning to Kitty. 

They talked a while longer, but Kitty was 
non-commital. Mrs. McGinnis concluded, at 
last to wait and leave the offer open for a day 
or two ; but she permitted or persuaded 
(Kitty could not decide which) Fanny to 
enter their employ that night. She pre- 
vented her from going farther with Kitty, 
and swept her away for a talk with McGin- 
nis. 

Kitty went on alone, wondering if any 
harm in the future would come to Fanny ; 
half wishing she had urged her not to go 
with the woman. But then Fanny was 
another motherless, friendless girl. Now she 
would have shelter and food and good wages. 
Refusing these, she was not sure even of but- 
tonhole making at starvation rates. 

A day seldom passed wherein Miss Page 


The Concert Saloon. 


261 


did not visit her old home ; so as Kitty went 
by the “ office” door she was not surprised at 
all to see the lady sitting at her desk. She 
had gone a few steps farther toward her own 
room, when Miss Page called after her by 
name. Kitty did not think herself very well 
acquainted with the “ old lady,” as she con- 
sidered Miss Janet; but the latter knew of 
Kitty from talks with Louise. 

When the young girl returned, Miss Page 
arose, and standing by the open window, said : 
“ This is very warm for a March day, Kitty 
— and now tell me how you are getting along. 
I think you look a little dragged.” 

“ It is warm, and I am tired,” returned 
Kitty, standing respectfully before the elder 
lady, who gently pressed her into a chair 
with such a kindly expression on her face, 
that Kitty added impulsively, “ I am worried 
too ; I have lost my place, and perhaps I 
have helped somebody else into a bad 


one. 


262 Miss Janet's Old House. 

“ Tell me about it,” said Miss Janet, inter 
ested at once. 

Kitty, without being urged — told the whole 
story of her life, and of Fanny’s, at the shop, 
of their dismissal, of Fanny’s dismay, and 
then of Mrs. McGinnis, and the concert 
saloon. 

The quiet sympathy with which Miss Page 
listened to the first half of the tale, soon 
changed to anxiety, until she broke out, “ O, 
Kitty, I wish you had clung to the poor child 
a little longer, and had brought her here first. 
I know all about this concert saloon ; it was 
only lately started, but it will be like a door 
into perdition for any young girl who stays 
there. We must do something. Do you 
know what friends this Fanny has ?” 

“ She boards with an aunt who has a house 
full of her own children, and whose husband 
is all the time angry that Fanny can’t pay 
more for board. . She has no other friends.” 

“ But her aunt can forbid her staying 


The Concert Saloon. 


263 


there, if she is under age,” exclaimed Miss 
Page, excitedly. “ See here, Kitty — do you 
know the aunts house ?” 

“ I don’t remember the number, but I could 
find the place in Bleecker Street, for I have 
been there.” 

“ Very well, then; I will send Don for a 
carriage, and we will drive there, and get the 
aunt; then we will take a policeman, if 
necessary, and go to McGinnis’s after 
Fanny.” 

“Why not go right there now?” asked 
Kitty, rather surprised at Miss Page’s 
energy. 

“ Because we might not be able to in- 
fluence Fanny on the spot to come away, 
and we have no authority to«take her. You 
do not know the traps of this city, Kitty — - 
that poor child has already stepped into a 
quicksand.” 

Almost before Kitty could realize where 
she was, Miss Page had called the carriage ; 


264 Miss Janet's Old House . 

hurried Kitty into it, and they were being 
driven rapidly down town. 

“I don’t see what we are goingtodo,” be- 
gan Kitty, and then, lest she might seem to 
be asking help for herself, she dropped the 
“we,” and continued : “ Fanny is out of work, 
and she can’t live on her aunt.” 

“Your room, Kitty, is plenty large enough 
for two ; you must take Fanny in with you, 
and we can trust you both for food and room- 
rent, until you are again at some profitable 
work.” 

“ You are very kind,” said Kitty, warmly. 

“ Well, it would be a pity if such pe*ople as 
the McGinnis’s were the only ones to hold 
out a hand to you and Fanny in your days 
of trouble. E^ery Christian ought to be a 
friend, and a friend is for hard times, Kitty.” 

Hitherto Kitty’s idea of unusual goodness 
had been in a certain fashion confused with 
her admiration of Louise Flemming’s ele- 
gance and beauty ; but to-night her eyes 


The Concert Saloon. 


265 


grew dim and her heart beat warmly as she 
gazed at Miss Page’s time-worn face and 
prim little figure. 

Suddenly the driver jerked up his horse 
before a barrel of garbage, and Miss Page 
looked out on the door steps of a house 
filled to overflowing, if the number of heads 
in the windows, and the assorted sizes of 
children in the hall, were an index of the 
inmates. On the top floor they found 
Fanny’s aunt, a shrewish, tired creature, who 
showed more vexation than alarm when told 
of her niece’s situation. She declared that 
she could not leave a “job of ironing,” she 
was doing to go away up town ; but she 
gave Miss Page full authority to take Fanny 
from the concert saloon, and do for her or 
with her as she saw fit. 

“ With seven young ones of my own, I 
can’t do more for the girl than I have done,” 
was her parting speech. “ Maybe you think 
I am hard-hearted, but we poor folks haven’t 


266 Miss Janet's Old House. 

time to do as we would. He’d say let her stay 
where she is, if she can earn anything — he’d 
say that, if he was to home this minute, he 
would.” 

Miss Page rightly supposed the “ he ” was 
the father of the seven children, so she 
replied : 

“ Very well, I will try and find her work 
in a much safer place,” and then she return- 
ed to the carriage. 

When they reached the Home again it was 
very dark. Miss Janet, who had been silent 
for a while, laid her hand on Kitty’s arm as 
they entered the house, saying : 

“ Go and eat a good supper now, and 
when Fanny comes, as I hope she will before 
an hour goes past, make her feel at home. 
Take time to look for good work, and don’t 
worry. Trust your Father in heaven, love 
and pray to Him, and you will never slip 
out of His safe keeping.” 

Little Fanny was prettier and moreattrac- 


The Concert Saloon . 


267 


tive in her manner than any of the girls hith- 
erto hired by McGinnis to wait on his guests, 
to “drinks,” and to induce them to drink as 
often as possible. He might not, however, 
have accepted her as readily as he did take 
her when she was presented to him by his 
wife, if he had not hoped through her to 
secure her companion, Kitty. 

His approval gained, Mrs. McGinnis gave 
Fanny her supper, set her at dish-washing for 
a half hour, and then directed her as to the 
evening duties. 

Fanny’s face was “ all right,” but her attire 
was very dingy. She was told she must be 
“ dressed up,” hereafter, but for this time they 
must do the best they could for finery. A 
gaudy sash, a quantity of coarse lace, and 
some cheap pink cotton roses, with rings, 
bracelets and chain, all “jewelry,” from some 
dollar store, made Fanny “ fit to be seen for 
once ;” then she was initiated into her duties 
in the saloon. For the first hour she could not 


268 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


tell if she were most amused or frightened, 
shocked or puzzled. It is a sad fact that 
life in a tenement house blunts the sense of 
delicacy in every child who must endure it. 
The music excited her. The other girls were 
very gay and good-natured ; there was pro- 
fanity, loud talk, and much drinking. She 
shrank behind her companions, until McGin- 
nis, seeing this, expressed his disapproval ; 
but when her pretty face began to attract 
rude attention, and vulgar flattery, she for the 
first time dimly realized where she had put 
herself. 

She was startled by a quick whisper and a 
push from one of the most offensive girls in 
the room. 

“You Fanny, see here! If that is your 
name — run through that hall and hide, if you 
want to stay here. Your father is there at 
the door, and McGinnis is telling him that 
you aint here now !” 

“ It is nobody for me. It can’t be, for no- 


The Concert Saloon . 269 

body knows where I am, or cares ; ” and with 
the words on her lips, Fanny hastened to the 
door, even before McGinnis could interpose 
his huge body to hide her. He pushed her 
rudely back, but not soon enough for his 
purpose. A voice that she did not recognize 
as Kitty’s, said : “ There, that is Fanny ! ” 

Instantly a policeman strode past McGin- 
nis, took Fanny by the shoulder, and passed 
her toward a queer little old lady whom she 
had never seen ; while he himself interview- 
ed the disgusted proprietor. 

Fanny stood as one in a dream, having no 
idea why this kindly old person should come 
to tell her, as she did at once, of the dangers 
of this concert saloon, of the evil men and 
bad women she would be associated with. 
How did a stranger know she was out of 
work, and who would give her a good home 
until she could get work, and after that — Oh, 
Kitty Prior had told of her at the Home ! 
That was the explanation ! 


270 Miss Janet's Old House . 

Miss Page was talking fast and faster, con- 
scious that Mrs. McGinnis was near by in a 
towering rage, and only prevented by the 
presence of the officer from swooping down 
on Fanny and removing her forcibly. 

Unable to restrain her tongue, she burst 
out with the story of Fanny’s begging to be 
employed ; but the officer put a sudden end 
to the matter by saying : “ Very well, Madam, 
no doubt she wants to stay, but she has no- 
thing to say about it. She is not of age, and 
her aunt is her guardian, and she wants her 
at home.” 

With no gentle hand Mrs. McGinnis then 
tore off the finery she had lent to Fanny, . but 
her wrath was directed toward Miss Janet, 
whom she took for the “aunt.” In Fanny’s 
ear she whispered: “If you give them the 
slip any time for a week, I’ll take you back, 
and risk their finding you if they come again.” 

Fanny did not utter a word. In the glar- 


The Concert Saloon . 


271 

mg light of the saloon, she looked more 
child-like than ever. 

“Never mind your bonnet, I have brought 
you a wrap,” said Miss Page, and with the 
officer as a rear-guard they passed out to find 
Kitty and Baldwin waiting srt a little distance. 

The whole affair had passed off without 
much ado, but somewhat later, as Miss Page 
recalled the look McGinnis had cast on her 
as she stood on his threshold, she knew 
that she had made a relentless enemy. 


272 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER XVI. 

0 

JESSIE AND KITTY. 

T3EF0RE one entire year rolled around, 
Miss Janet Page had come to consider 
her home as a decided success in every way 
save in a pecuniary sense. In the first place 
she believed that she had received as much 
as she had given. She was as busy, and as 
happy now as any woman in the whole city ; 
whereas a little more than a year before she 
had felt no interest in her own life or any 
life of which she knew. Instead of this old 
dull indifference, she touched, in these later 
days, the personality of scores — yes, of hun- 
dreds of people. Gradually she had enlarg- 
ed her accommodations for poor women and 
girls, until many more now enjoyed the com- 


Jessie and Kitty . 


2 73 

forts of a Christian home, for a sum within 
their means; a sum that would have been 
wholly insufficient elsewhere. These women 
had drawn their associates in here evenings 
for the enjoyment and profit of rest, recrea- 
tion, lectures and readings. An Employ- 
ment Bureau was also proving a great means 
of good. Miss Page was tireless in spreading 
the report of it far and wide, among her well- 
to-do acquaintances, and in one year fifty 
sewing women, who had made undergar- 
ments for the wholesale trade at the rate of 
five cents each, were helped to places as 
seamstresses in private families at good wa- 
ges. In her weekly Temperance Meetings, 
a work had been done whose value it was 
not possible to estimate. Her pleasant 
rooms, the temperance literature, the person- 
al influence, and last but not least, the famous 
hot coffee, always a specialty there — these 
combined, had driven away two of the near- 
est grog-shops. The others flourished, but 
18 


274 Miss Janet's Old House. 

many a once familiar face was missing from 
them, and a corresponding number of names 
appeared on the pledge roll at the Home. 
Every Saturday night, more than a few men 
who came for their supper left with the ma- 
tron a good portion of their week’s wages. 
By so doing they made sure of having com- 
fortable food in the week to come; and hav- 
ing little money in their pockets, they would 
be less tempted to visit old haunts of drunken- 
ness. 

For little Fanny, the girl whom she res- 
cued from the “ Retreat,” Miss Janet soon 
found a situation as nurse girl in a good 
family outside the city. A similar place was 
offered Kitty Prior, at the same time, but to 
Miss Janet’s surprise she seemed averse to 
accepting it, or rather to leaving the city. 
Fouise might have guessed the reason of 
Kitty’s reluctance to go ; but about that time 
the young wife’s life was so crowded with 
new interests and duties that she could not 


Jessie and Kitty. 


275 


give to individuals as much thought as of old. 
She saw Kitty remaining at the Home, and 
coming regularly to the Club meetings, while 
Jessie reported her as much more sedate and 
thoughtful than formerly. 

For Jessie McCoy, this first year of a free 
and better life, had done very much ; so much 
that Louise was often filled with wonder after 
talking with her. Jessie was just at the age 
in which a girl developes her heart and intel- 
lect most rapidly, when fortunately for her, 
she found such friends. 

“ I am convinced,” said Miss Page one day 
to Louise, “that Jessie comes either on the 
side of her father or mother of an unusually 
good stock. Do you not see the great differ- 
ence between Jessie and her step-mother? 
Mrs. McCoy is rather weak-minded, well 
enough inclined, to be sure, but at her best 
only a very ordinary woman, without any 
ambition beyond the desire for a decent roof 
over her head.” 


276 Miss Janet's Old House . 


“While Jessie,” added Louise, “is growing 
every day in intelligence, she shows great 
good sense, and a sort of simple strength of 
character that inspires respect.” 

“I am sometimes tempted,” said Miss 
Janet, “ to send her to Mt. Holyoke Semi- 
nary and fit her for a teacher ; she is capable 
of doing more than ever Kitty Prior could do 
in the world.” 

“Yet she would gladly have gone to the 
country in the place that Kitty refused ; at 
least I think so.” 

“ Oh, you must be mistaken !” exclaimed 
Miss Page. “Did she say so ?” 

“ No, but I fancied it,” replied Louise, who 
really could give no reason for her assertion ; 
but a few days after, she happened to be 
alone with Jessie, and the following conversa- 
tion took place : 

“ Have you ever lived in the country, 
Jessie ?” 

“ Not since I was a little girl.” 


2 77 


Jessie and Kitty , 

“ What do you remember of it, then ?” 

“ Only little bits, like pictures; but such 
lovely pictures. Sundays we went down a 
hill and winding through woods to a little 
church. Every now and then we could see 
hill ranges, and below us the moors covered 
with yellow broom. I was so young I won- 
der that I can now see how the heather looked 
on the rocks — - see the plastered cottages, 
thatched on top, and the moss- covered sto'nes 
in the old kirk yard. One old gray one, 
marked ‘James McCoy, died 1774/ was sunk- 
en deep in the sod.” 

“Still you left Scotland so young, New 
York must seem home to you.” 

“ I have lived here almost all my life; but 
I don’t like it — the city, I mean. Mother says 
it is because we have been so poor, but I 
know that is not it. I can’t remember the 
time when I have not longed for green fields, 
great trees, plenty of sky over me, and not 
strips of it between chimneys.” 


278 Miss Janet's Old House 


“ Your own mother was Scotch, of course, 
as well as your father ?” 

“ Yes, she was a ship-builder’s daughter, 
near Glasgow. Her father did not like her 
marrying a very poor man, beneath her, as 
every one thought, so he did not forgive her 
for a long time, not until he was near his death. 
My grandfather was never rich, and he lost 
about all he had before he died. I never 
can build any hopes of coming into a fortune 
from the old country,” laughed Jessie. 

V It is better for you that you cannot ; but 
have you no relatives over there whose ac- 
quaintance you might find pleasant ?” 

“No — I do not think I have — that is I 
never think anything about it,” replied Jessie : 
and at that they were interrupted by some 
one wishing for Mrs. Flemming. 

Jessie was sewing in her own room some- 
what late in the day, and her thoughts revert- 
ed to this question of Louise, in regard to 
her “relatives,” in Scotland. She knew lit- 


Jessie and Kitty . 279 

tie or nothing of them, because on her fathers 
side, there were none, as she remembered to 
have heard him say. While his children were 
young, he had brought them to America, and 
aftei marrying a second wife, it was not very 
strange that he seldom or never talked of 
the family connections of his first wife. Her 
step-mother, however, might be able to tell 
something hitherto unknown to Jessie. Thor- 
oughly interested now, the young girl put 
aside her work and sought Mrs. McCoy. In 
reply to several questions from Jessie, she 
answered nothing at first ; but sat meditating, 
with a face almost void of expression. 

“ It seems to me as if I had heard your 
father say something or other about some old 
maid sisters of your mother — how after some- 
body died (your grandfather, maybe), they 
went to live, in a poor way, somewhere near 
— not far from the city^. Come to think of it, 
I believe they were old bachelors — if there 
were any at all,” and concluding this lucid 


?8o Miss Janet's Old House . 

statement, Mrs. McCoy went on ironing 
napkins. 

Jessie was forced to laugh as she advised 
her mother to rest for a while, and took her 
turn at the ironing-table. 

Mrs. McCoy was always good-natured, so 
after a moment, she added : 

“There are some old duds of your father’s 
I have always hated to throw away, nothing 
of the least value ; those things you know in 
the little leather trunk. Among them are 
old letters. If you should read them, maybe 
you would find out all you want to know. 
If there had been any one likely to care about 
you, I guess your father would have told us 
before he died.” 

“ That is true,” said Jessie; but that same 
evening, after all her duties for the day were 
done, she carried the soiled old package of let- 
ters to herroom and read them carefully. Some 
were from her mother to her father ; these 
were full of good sense and good principle. 


Jessie and Kitty . 281 

Some were worthless business letters. Sev- 
eral were from women whom she knew must 
be the “aunts.” A certain Margaret Mc- 
Clise wrote after the death of her own father 
in regard to some household stuff he had 
wished Jessie’s mother to have. This letter 
was dated from Greenock, on a day of May 
twenty years previous to this year, in which 
Jessie’s fair face was bent over its pages so 
intently. Another, and a kindlier letter, or so 
it seemed to Jessie, was from Elizabeth Mc- 
Clise, who spoke in it of her own fortieth 
birth-day. “ That would make her sixty now, 
if she is living,” commented Jessie, adding, 
soon after, “she asks about the bairns. 
I wonder why she never has written to learn 
of Harry or of me, if she is alive yet ? But 
perhaps these are not all the letters father 
received.” 

Nothing more was to be found after an- 
other search, except a few Scotch addresses 
in an old note-book. In this was repeated 


282 


Miss Janet's Old Hoitse . 


Elizabeth McClise’s name, and the date of 
entry was a number of years later. 

“ I believe,” said Jessie, to herself, as she 
staid awake thinking that night, “ that I will 
write a letter to Greenock in care of the 
Presbyterian minister there. My mother’s 
people were all Scotch Presbyterians, and if 
any of the McClise’s are living there, the min- 
ister would know them — at least I should 
think he might. I will tell who I am, and 
that I would like to know more of my rela- 
tives. I will copy this letter, or parts of it, 
and return to my aunt Elizabeth, if she is liv- 
ing.” 

True to her resolution, Jessie employed 
her first leisure hours in writing a letter 
to Scotland. It was a pleasant, modest 
epistle, in which she told all that it might in- 
terest her friends to know ; only two points 
she touched on lightly. Harry’s death, and 
the property of the family. She had no heart 
to expose her poor brother’s folly, and an in- 


Jessie and Kitty . 


283 


stinct either of refinement or true independ- 
ence restrained her from seeming in any pos- 
sible way to be seeking her relatives’ ac- 
quaintance for purely selfish motives. In 
fact, there was every reason to suppose that 
her aunts, if living, were poor old spinsters, 
subsisting on a mere pittance. 

For two months after her letter went, Jes- 
sie awaited an answer with considerable curi- 
osity and impatience, but no answer came. 
When much more time elapsed, she let all 
thought of the matter drop from her mind. 
Indeed, after her letter had been sent, her 
stepmother one day said that she dimly re- 
membered hearing her husband say that his 
first wife’s relatives had all gone to Edinboro’ 
to live. So that matter ended. 

The relations between Jessie McCoy and 
Kitty Prior continued perfectly friendly, but 
one young girl seemed to have very little 
influence over the other. Jessie grew con- 
stantly more self-reliant. She studied ways 


284 Miss Janet' s Old House. 

to do her work to the best advantage, and 
her amusements were more and more beyond 
Kitty. Kitty liked well enough to hear Mrs. 
Flemming read some story, written by Mrs. 
Prentice, for instance, but only under compul- 
sion would Kitty have read, as Jessie read 
daily, and by herself, a student’s History of 
England. It seemed to her the height of ab- 
surdity that Jessie began to put by a trifle 
in a Savings Bank, from time to time, and 
dressed in the plainest sort of way. If she, 
Kitty, had a half dollar to spare, it quickly 
went for a pink ribbon, or a locket, with a 
glass ‘'diamond.” 

Jessie, on her part, was sure that Kitty’s 
friends were not helpful to her, for she was 
discontented when not excited by something 
in the way of “ fun,” a concert, a Sunday ex- 
cursion, or an evening at some third rate the- 
atre. 

One afternoon, as she was returning from 
work, for she had found another place in a 


Jessie and Ki ty. 285 

shop, Kitty met Mrs. Flemming in the hall of 
the Home, and stopped to talk with her. She 
pulled off her old cotton gloves, as they stood 
side by side, and Louise caught the glitter of 
what seemed a tiny diamond on Kitty’s hand. 

With a playful smile and a manner the 
girl could not resent, the lady took her hand, 
on which were four rings, and held it a mo- 
ment in the light. Glancing at three gaudy 
circles set with yellow and purple ornaments, 
Louise said : 

“ One little plain gold ring was all I wore 
until I was married.” 

Kitty colored, well understanding her 
meaning, and was about to draw away her 
hand, when Louise touched the fourth ring, 
a slender hoop in which was set a star of 
small pearls with one smaller, but very bril- 
lian diamond in the centre. 

“ Where did you get that ring?” she asked; 
and while Kitty hesitated, she added : “ I 

would not ask where you found these worth- 


286 Miss Janet's Old House . 

less rings. I do not care to know, and per- 
haps it might be no concern of mine ; but you 
are not able to buy, or to wear a ring of this 
sort, Kitty, and no one ought to give or lend 
you one like it. No really good friend would 
let you wear it.” 

“ I know — I will take it oft—” stammered 
Kitty. “ It belongs to a friend who was rich 
once, I guess. I teased to keep it a little 
while — he — she said I must not be wearing it. 
I shall give it right back.” 

Louise let go the little hand, roughened by 
the cold, and searching the girl’s beautiful 
face, said : 

“ Oh, I am afraid for you, Kitty. Are you 
not going in slippery places ?” 

“ I try very hard to remember everything 
good,” replied Kitty, hastening away, as some 
one approached to speak with Mrs. Flem- 
ming. 

When in her own room she turned the ring 
around on her finger, curiously looking at it 


Jessie and Kitty. 


287 


in the gas light, and murmuring to herself : 
“ He said it was valuable, and I must not 
show it; but I did not think it was fine 
enough to excite attention. I don’t believe 
it belonged to his mother. I wish I knew that 
he told me the truth, half the time, at least. I 
do know, he cannot have any regular way of 
earning money. How does he get it ? He 
is not a thief — I know he can’t be. I would 
marry him if I were not so afraid — but I don’t 
know why I fear him. He would treat me 
well. O dear!” 

There was a tap at her door, and Don 
gave her a note, which some- one had left at 
the door for her a moment before. She read 
it — just a line without a signature, and said : 

“ All right, Don.” 

When he went away, she put on her hat 
and shawl, turned off the gas and went out 
again, without waiting as usual to get her 
supper. She walked rapidly down the street 
to a certain point where, as she expected, she 


288 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


met “Tom.” A little pettishly she asked 
what he wanted. 

“I want you, now and here, to make up 
your mind once for all,” he replied, coolly. 
“ If you will marry me, I will take care of you, 
and wherever I live you will live, and fare 
better than you ever fared in your life ; having 
enough to eat, drink and wear, without hard 
work. If you wont marry me this very even- 
ing, I shall leave you forever. I am going 
soon to Texas, and you can stay in a shop 
until you are old and homely ; you can get 
sick, and die in the hospital, and be sent to 
the potter’s field. When it is too late, you will 
wish you had gone with me.” 

Kitty leaned against the near brick wall, 
trembling with excitement. 

“ To-night !” she exclaimed. 

“Yes, now. I want to leave the city for 
certain reasons this very night. You must 
not go back to that Home. You may get 
all the shop girls you know, to witness 


Jessie and Kitty . 289 

your marriage. I know a place where it will 
be done all up in order.” 

“Not go back at all?” gasped Kitty. 

“No; and remember, you have kept me 
fooling away my time now for a year. That 
is all over ; it is now or never.” 

When Kitty began to sob and declare she 
must go back, for everybody had been so 
kind to her, Tom mingled just enough per- 
suasion with his stubbornness to bewilder 
her judgment and increase her distress. 

“ Come ! Come ! you can’t stand here 
crying,” he exclaimed, finally. “Walk on, 
while we talk it over.” 

Out on the Avenue, she had to calm her- 
self — and every step took her farther from 
home. The next morning Jessie was greatly 
alarmed to find that Kitty’s room had not 
been occupied, and inquiry showed she had 
not returned after going out about half-past 
six the evening before. Day after day 

passed, and not a trace of the missing girl 
19 


290 Miss Janet's Old House . 

could be found. The police were informed, 
and their services demanded, but they de- 
clared the case only too common. They said 
the girl had run away because she wanted to 
go, and for that reason. she would not be 
found. Everybody in the Home grieved. 
Kitty had no enemies, and Miss Page never 
passed the door of her room without a sigh 
for the poor foolish child, so pretty and so 
weak. 

One day, about three weeks after her dis- 
appearance, a card was received from Kitty, 
a soiled postal, which evidently had come 
from a long distance. It was addressed to 
Mrs. Flemming. The post mark was illegible, 
but the contents were to the effect that Kitty 
Prior had been married to James Hazard, on 
the evening of Nov. 7th, by a certain minister, 
whose address was given. 

Miss Page found this announcement to be 
true ; a German minister attached to a down 
town Mission had the record of the marriage, 


Jessie and Kitty. 


291 


performed the evening of Kitty’s flight. 
He could tell but little of “James Hazard,” 
but pronounced him a “ goot ’’-looking per- 
son. Miss Page read him a severe lecture for 
marrying persons of whom he knew nothing; 
he meekly asserted that they brought friends 
with them, who declared it all right tor the 
parties to marry. 

“ Poor Kitty, I fear she will see trouble,” 
mused the old lady ; “but I am glad she sent 
us the postal card ; it shows she cares for us, 
and for our good opinion.” 

******* 

It was the last night of the old year — and 
in Miss Janet Page’s own beautiful home 
she sat with Mr. Flemming and Louise, by 
the glowing fire in the library. She ha d been 
silent a long time, but the young peo; le had 
not noticed the fact. Naturally tht y had 
much to say to one another, and man) bright 
hopes of the future of their newly united 
lives. Presently Miss Page spoke : 


292 Miss Janet's Old Hozise. 

“ I wish I did not have to refuse so many 
sad-faced, tired women, who want to get 
rooms in our Home. There were three 
yesterday who have been paying two-thirds 
of their weekly earnings for a fireless shelter 
— -just a shelter, no comfort at all.” 

But you did not start with the one idea of 
a woman’s lodging-house, did you ?” asked 
Mr. Flemming. 

In her old quick way Miss Janet replied: 

“No, and I don’t mean to end with that; 
but I see it is one way of doing good in a 
simple, direct fashion. That Home has been 
a sort of an experiment. I did not want it 
started in any fixed unchangeable manner, as 
a regular institution with a board of direc- 
tors, and no end of machinery.” 

“ Why, I call Herbert and you and myself 
a ‘ board of the finest sort,’” laughed Louise. 

“ Well, yes ; for among us we can provide 
common sense and money. We do not 
quarrel, and we are not paraded before the 


Jessie and Kitty. 


293 


public. But as I was going to say, I wish that 
some things were different ; our audience 
room is not big enough for the people who 
come to the prayer- meetings Sunday nights.” 

“ We cannot build any addition in the rear, 
for we have taken every available inch of 
ground there already,” said Mr. Flemming. 

“You might buy that old rattletrap of a 
tenement house next door,” said Louise. 

She spoke in jest, and was surprised to 
hear Miss Page answer : 

“ That is exactly what I have been think- 
ing. It looks like a very old and insecure 
building, but it is not much older than my 
house. I will have Baldwin go all over it and 
find out everything ; then if you think, Mr. 
Flemming, that we could with advantage add 
it to this Home of ours we will do it, even if 
it costs more to repair it than we spent to put 
the first building in its present shape ; and 
doubtless it may cost more. I wish you 
would look into the matter next week, Mr. 


294 Miss Janet's Old House . 

Flemming. Find out who owns it, and for 
what it could be bought.” 

A plan of this sort of course gave rise to a 
long discussion of ways and means. Mr. 
Flemming, who remembered in detail the 
amounts expended already in work of this 
nature on the Home, made some calculations 
in regard to the new scheme. When he told 
Miss Page what he thought would be the 
probable cost of her proposed undertaking, 
Louise opened wide her eyes in surprise. 
Mrss Janet studied the red-hot coals a while, 
and then smilingly said: “We can afford it.” 
(She never said /, of late, but she made Mr. 
Flemming feel that the knowledge and the 
Christian enthusiasm he put into the work 
equalled any money she could contribute.) 
“There was a time when this would have 
seemed a larger sum to me than it now 
seems.” 

The remarks her words called out from her 
companions were unheard, for just then Miss 


Jessie and Kitty. 


295 


Janet vividly recalled that morning when she 
crossed the street to speak to the McCoys. 
How old and forsaken, how bitter and indif- 
ferent to life she was ; nothing was dear to 
her, but a tumble-down empty house and her 
full purse. She had spent a small fortune in 
the months since, and to-night she was richer 
and far happier. 

“It is so late, let us watch out the old 
year,” exclaimed Louise, after a while ; and 
Miss Janet, arousing herself, turned to Mr. 
Flemming, saying: “Yes, and let the New 
Year find us praying ! The old one has 
been good, may the new be even better.” 


296 Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER XVII, 


NEW NEIGHBORS 


R. FLEMMING and Baldwin went 



jointly to making inquiries and per- 
sonal observations in regard to the old house 
next door to the Home. Inasmuch as it 
proved to be the property of a sharp and 
rather tricky old man, Mr. Flemming did not 
think it best to seem over anxious about pur- 
chasing it ; for many people, in dealing with 
Miss Page or her agents, seemed to think it 
feasible to ask her exorbitant prices. She 
was by a part of the community considered 
a rich lunatic, whom to cheat was clear gain. 
Moreover, while the site of this house made 
its purchase desirable to Miss Page, the 
building itself was in a wretched condition ; 


New Neighbors. 


297 


thousands must be spent on it if it were to be 
adapted to her purposes. All objections for 
and against buying it were duly considered, 
and a good price was finally offered the 
owner. The offer was made through a busi- 
ness man, a good friend of Miss Page, who 
constantly assured her : “ I must buy it and 
turn it over to you ; once let old Wilkes know 
that you want it for your benevolent work, 
and he will fix his price at double the old 
shell’s value.” 

Now this was doubtless true; and but for 
one thing, Miss Page could have come into 
possession of the property at a reasonable 
price. 

In some unaccountable way, McGinnis 
found out what was on foot. From the out- 
set, Miss Page and her temperance hobby 
had caused him intense disgust. He con- 
sidered her an interloper, and her Home a 
nuisance. He had started his concert saloon 
in opposition, and to his great delight it had 


298 Miss Janet's Old House . 

proved a success ; but then Miss Page’s 
Home was proving a success too, though of 
quite a different sort. Now to learn that she 
meant to enlarge her borders, fired McGinnis 
with rage, and he resolved to do his worst to 
thwart her. 

One afternoon, about a month after Mr. 
Wilkes had been offered by Miss Page’s 
agent the price she was willing to give for 
his house, a young man called at the Home. 
He asked to see Miss Page, and was led to 
her office, where she happened to be alone. 
He had a pleasant, manly face, a prepossessing 
manner, and introduced himself as James Ro- 
bertson. He said that he had been about six 
months in the city, and that he was an Eng- 
lishman, who had come to the States on bus- 
iness. A few weeks before he had attended 
a temperance lecture here, and as he him- 
self had been greatly interested in Mission 
work in his own country, he had been at- 
tracted to this place. Then, somewhat 


New Neighbors. 299 

abruptly, he asked Miss Page if she were 
not thinking of buying Mr. Wilkes’ old house 
next door. 

Put on her guard at once, she was for a 
moment silent ; she could not tell an untruth, 
and it might be unwise to tell anything. 

“ I think,” he continued respectfully, “ that 
some one is trying to buy it for you. I am, 
just now, having business myself with Mr. 
Wilkes ; but he does not know yet who 
wants his house, or for what use it is wanted. 
I happen to have found out, and I suppose 
when I add, that if you wish the house you 
must secure it at once, you will suspect me 
of acting in his interest.” 

“ It looks like that, certainly,” returned 
Miss Page, with considerable dignity, 

“ It does indeed ; so I will tell you why I 
have come to you, and you can take means 
immediately to find if I am acting a double 
part. Mr. Wilkes has meant to accept the 
price offered him, for he knows it is good — 


300 Miss Janet's Old House . 

very good for a bouse in great need of re- 
pair. If he thought he could get more, he 
would demand more. Yesterday, in crossing 
the Roosevelt Ferry, I overheard a conversa- 
tion between two rumsellers ; one was a cer- 
tain McGinnis, a neighbor of yours. He 
told his companion that you were going to 
start another enterprise like this one, now in 
operation here, if you could get the house 
next to yours ; but that he would ‘ spike 
your guns.’ He had been to Wilkes, had 
found out that Wilkes does not know of you, 
and he has offered him six hundred dollars 
more than you offer, if he will give him im- 
mediate possession. Perhaps it is too late for 
you to get it anyway ; and if not, you would 
have to give much more than the actual 
value of the property.” 

“ Why have you come to tell me this ?” 
asked Miss Janet, after a little pause of sur- 
prise and useless reflection. 

“ Because, McGinnis, by carrying out his 


New Neighbors. 


30 T 


plans, can give you so much trouble, that I 
thought you might even now overbid him, 
and take the old house.” 

“ What will McGinnis do ?” 

“ He will let the place to a partner, who 
means to start a dance hall, and a saloon, 
of course. McGinnis has money, with in- 
fluence of the worst kind, and he intends to 
give you a set of neighbors that you will find 
anything but agreeable.” 

Miss Page could not collect her thoughts 
enough to decide whether the pleasant-faced 
man could be acting in her interest, or not. 
Possibly he was sent in this plausible way 
that Wilkes, or McGinnis and Wilkes, act- 
ing together, might extort a larger sum from 
her. She thanked him rather coolly, but po- 
litely; and he took his departure. 

As soon as possible, Mr. Flemming en- 
deavored to find out what this information 
was worth, and to his intense chagrin, he 
found that Wilkes had already sold out all 


302 Miss Janet's Old House . 

right and title to the property. The ink 
was scarcely dry on the papers ; but McGin- 
nis was the owner. He had been very 
prompt, and too sharp for even a sharper 
like Wilkes. When the latter learned that 
by holding on he might possibly have gotten 
a few dollars more out of Miss Page’s pocket, 
because of her desire to help others from the 
snares of the rumseller, great was his vex- 
ation and terrible his profanity. 

When Miss Page heard Mr. Flemming’s 
report, she was for the first time since he had 
known her, completely discouraged. In fact 
she burst into tears. 

“Why, my dear woman,” he exclaimed, 
“don’t take it so to heart. You must re- 
member that one rumseller is not stronger 
than the power that is pledged to care 
for you. You believe that He directs your 
steps when you acknowledge Him in all your 
ways, and if this is true, He did not mean you 
to own this house that McGinnis has bought.” 


New Neighbors. 


303 


“Well, if I can think of it in that light, 
I shall be reconciled ; but when I remember 
how much trouble McGinnis has been able to 
make me when he has' had his saloon a block 
distant, I cannot help imagining his power 
for annoyance if he has another at our very 
door.” 

“ ‘ Fret not thyself because of the man who 
bringeth wicked devices to pass,’” said Mr. 
Flemming, “ and do not forget that the Lord 
promises to deliver from the wicked those 
who trust in him then seeing Miss Page’s 
face getting brighter, he added : “ I am re- 
peating to you the comfort I had to apply to 
myself on my way home ; for I was sorely 
disappointed.” 

“ That young man who came to warn me 
was then disinterested. I am glad to know 
it, for I disliked to think that a person with 
such an open face could be trying to trick 
me.” 

“Yes, I saw him this morning. Wilkes 


304 Miss Janet's Old House . 

is a lawyer, and this young Robertson has 
business to settle for other parties with him. 
The young man talked with me some time 
about the work here, and I have an idea that 
he would make an excellent teacher for the 
class of wild boys which we have had such 
trouble to hold for a few Sundays. I asked 
him to come and try his hand with them next 
Sunday.” 

“That is good,” said Miss Janet; “and I 
will stop worrying over McGinnis and go 
right on doing my best. It is the Lord’s 
work, and He cares more for it than any one 
of us can possibly care.” 

Mr. Robertson came promptly, and 
adapted himself to the untamed boys in a 
way that won their attention. He was a fine 
singer, a good story-teller, an earnest, intel- 
ligent Christian. In the next few months 
Miss Page often said that McGinnis had sent 
them a rare helper. 

McGinnis’s own movements were of course 


New Neighbors . 


305 


now watched with much anxiety. He lost no 
time. Baldwin had every day a story to tell 
of the remarkable “ repairs” the old house 
was undergoing. 

“ Now you know, Miss Page,” he exclaim- 
ed, “ if we’d bought that place we were calcu- 
latin’ to strengthen the beams, put in new 
material, and have the hull thing genuine. 
It aint going to be that now, I can tell you. 
McGinnis aint spending a cent that don’t 
show. The place for drinking and dancing 
is being decked out in gaudy cheap ways, 
and he is telling how much money he is going 
to put in. A foreign fellow is going to run 
it, and what do you think, Miss Page ? They 
are going to make seats and tables for out- 
doors and summers, so that the front and 
back yards close by us here will be full of 
drinking, carousing men and women. I 
heard ’em telling about trees in tubs and 
Chinese lanterns, and a band of music.” 

“ Yes, Baldwin, I was terribly disturbed at 

20 


306 Miss Janet's Old House . 


first, but after all such alarm is very incon- 
sistent with our professions. If we built this 
Home to be a centre of good work, and good 
influences, we ought to consider that the 
nearer the poor wretches come to us the bet- 
ter it may be for them.” 

“ Exactly so — only I was thinking the 
nearer we got to them the worse for us.” 

“ That depends. Our work is utterly use- 
less unless the power of God makes it vital. 
Light will overcome darkness if the light is 
from heaven.” 

This was Miss Page’s reply then, and later, 
but soon she had need of all her faith. Ev- 
ery week for a long time the temperance 
meetings had been full. There was a very 
large class of half-grown boys and young 
men, who as yet had not become intemperate. 
They would have just about as readily amused 
themselves in McGinnis’s old Retreat, if he 
would have allowed any mere hangers-on in 
his saloon. He would not do this ; so because 


New Neighbors . 


307 


there was a warm, bright room in the Home 
they crowded in there. Now all was changed. 
The audience fell off from the temperance 
lectures as soon as the dance hall opened. 
McGinnis’s partner allowed great liberty and 
license ; his admission fees were very low. 
However, all the boys who could not afford 
to enter the place itself were permitted to 
crowd into the front yard. The policemen 
in that part of the city were Irish Catholics, 
who knew the value of McGinnis’s friendship 
in his political influence. Any help required 
by inmates of the Home from these guar- 
dians of the peace was not refused, but it was 
seldom of any efficiency. When the uproar 
about the premises became almost unendura- 
ble, the police were sure to be actively en- 
gaged elsewhere. It was unsafe for the poor 
lodgers in the Home to pass through the 
street after nightfall. 

One Sunday afternoon there had been 
a scene of great disorder in the rear yard of 


3 08 Miss Janet's Old House. 

the dance hall. A band of street musicians 
had played loud horns under the windows of 
Miss Page’s Sunday-school room, and the few 
children present were excited and scarcely to 
be controlled. Mr. Robertson alone was able 
to keep the attention of his boys ; but when 
the time for the session was ended he wiped 
the perspiration from his forehead, saying to 
Miss Page, with a smile: “1 am as tired 
physically as if I had done a hard day’s work. 
It tries one’s spirit really, mentally and bodily, 
to teach against such odds.” 

Miss Page was about to reply, when some 
one called her away. 

“ Your aunt is a very patient woman, or 
she would give up this undertaking,” he 
added, turning to Jessie McCoy, who had 
been teaching a class of little girls. 

“ O, Miss Page, you mean ;• she is not my 
aunt,” interrupted Jessie, hastily. 

“ I beg your pardon. I thought you were 
Mrs. Flemming’s sister,” said Mr. Robertson. 


New Neighbors . 309 

He had never before spoken to Jessie, but he 
had noticed her frequently, and if the truth 
were told, he had been wishing for a chance 
to speak to her. It is possible for a young 
man to be very much interested in his own 
class of boys, to hold their attention all the 
time, and yet that same young man may be 
not blind or deaf in regard to his surround- 
ings. Several weeks before this particular 
day, Mr. James Robertson had discovered 
that Jessie McCoy had a pretty face, a girlish 
grace, “ bonny brown hair,” and that her 
voice was low and sweet when she talked 
with her scholars. 

After his last remark Jessie hesitated, being 
a little pleased and flattered ; then her native 
truthfulness and good sense prompted her to 
add a statement which did not produce just 
the effect she may have expected, 

“ I am not any relation to Miss Page ; she 
is a wealthy lady. My mother helps the 
matron here, and I have a variety of duties 


310 Miss Janet's Old House. 

under her. Miss Page helps a great many 
poor people in such ways to earn their liv- 
ing.” 

“ Brave little woman. That speech cost 
your pride something, it may be,” thought the 
young man, who found pleasure in watching 
the color come and go in Jessie’s face, and 
the rings of soft hair over her forehead. 

“ Yes, it is a grand thing to be a helper in 
the world, as Miss Page is,” he went on. 
“ You speak of her wealth. She uses that, but 
it is the grace of God that moves her — not her 
money. I am glad, for if I do anything for 
my Master, it must be out of comparative pov- 
erty ; if I had to be rich before I could serve 
him, I should have to wait perhaps forever.” 

A little more at her ease, Jessie said: 

“ Mrs. Flemming is Miss Page’s cousin. I 
think you must have seen her here often.” 

Mr. Robertson found it a fine time to 
make inquiries about the management of the 
Home, and about various meetings he had 


New Neighbors . 


3ii 

never attended, until Jessie, who was really 
very shy, began to wish he would leave her ; 
although he was always courteous. 

After that, whenever Mr. Robertson 
wanted information on any subject connected 
with the work going on there, he was quite 
likely to ask it of Jessie. It made no differ- 
ence that she usually referred him to Miss 
Page, or to Mr. Flemming; he returned on 
the very next occasion to talk the matter 
over with her. It was all done so simply, 
however, so very naturally, that no one re- 
marked it, and Jessie was almost annoyed 
at herself for being so self-conscious as to 
notice the fact. She was glad all the same to 
hear Mr. Flemming say that he had satisfied 
himself that James Robertson was a “tho- 
roughly good fellow.” 

Jessie’s time and attention were soon all 
absorbed by the severe illness of Mrs. Mc- 
Coy. Care, work, and privation in past 
years, had undermined her step-mother’s con- 


312 Miss Janet's Old House. 

stitution. A severe cold settled on her lungs 
about this time, and the house doctor pro- 
nounced it a case of quick consumption. 

Mrs. McCoy had been a kind, faithful friend 
to Jessie, and when one considers that she 
was not a woman of great force of character, 
it was the more commendable that she had in 
the past, shielded the young girl from the 
worst accompaniments of poverty in every 
way possible. Now Jessie repaid her care to 
the extent of her ability. She took double 
duties on herself, and removed all care from 
her mother. The latter was made as com- 
fortable as the finest lady could have been in 
a warm, cosey little room, where Jessie 
nursed her and brought to her dainties to 
tempt her appetite, or sat with her, beguiling 
the tedious hours with accounts of affairs 
about the house. These days of enforced 
idleness, and time for thought, were of 
great spiritual benefit to each one of this lit- 
tle family. Mrs. McCoy had, as she express- 


New Neighbors . 


313 


ed it, “ always meant to do as near right as 
she could,” but now seeing death coming, she 
began to long for a better assurance than 
this that she had laid hold on eternal life. 
She was very humble and teachable, so when 
it came to be a habit with Miss Page or 
Louise to stop each day for a little while 
with the invalid, who listened eagerly to their 
reading of the Bible, or to a prayer for com- 
fort, Jessie, who had not before this time open- 
ly confessed herself a Christian, now listened 
and learned with her step-mother; while lit- 
tle Don, who was often present, never forgot 
those prayers and Scripture lessons. Mrs. 
McCoy suffered little pain, and slipped away 
so gradually, Jessie could not realize that 
she was going. 

One bright lovely afternoon, about the 
last of winter, Mr. Flemming had visited the 
sick woman and read to her the words cf 
Peter concerning Jesus Christ: “Whom, 
having not seen, ye love ; in whom, though 


3 H Miss Janets Old House . 

now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice 
with joy unspeakable and full of glory.” 

“ Is it not true of you that you love and trust 
this Jesus the Saviour?” asked Mr. Flemming, 
closing the Bible, and speaking directly to 
the poor woman, who sat propped by pil- 
lows in an easy-chair. 

“Yes, thank God ! His goodness tome is 
what seems most unspeakable.” 

“ Then,” said Mr. Flemming, with emotion, 
“ though as a man or a priest I have no 
power to absolve you from your sins ; yet as a 
brother Christian and another redeemed sin- 
ner, I can say that you will receive “ the end 
of your faith, even the salvation of your soul.” 

A flood of light seemed playing over the 
worn features of the plain little woman, while 
hey talked of heavenly things ; then she ask- 
ed him sometime to thank Miss Page and 
Louise for their kindness. “ They will not 
let me tell it out fully to them, they are too 
mcdest; but God knows that I cannot tell 


New Neighbors. 315 

what I owe to them. I am only one poor, 
ignorant working woman whom they have 
helped here on earth, but all through eterni- 
ty, I shall remember that through their help 
I learned my way to the Saviour.” 

A few moments after Jessie entered the 
room, and soon Mr. Flemming went away. 
Jessie found her mother unusually animated, 
and desirous of talking. 

“Jessie,” she said, quite cheerily, “you 
have been a good girl, and I love and trust 
you. Now when I am gone I want you to 
be a mother to my little Don. I give him to 
you to bring up, and I beg you not to turn him 
over to strangers, no matter how kind they 
are.” 

“ Mother, I will cling to Don as long as 
any sister can cling to a brother ; and I will 
try to be his mother as well as I can,” said 
Jessie, her eyes overflowing with tears. 

“There, dear child, don’t cry. I am going 
away from care and work and trouble. I have 


3 l6 


Miss Janet's Oid House. 


bad so much of both in the past that I have 
lost my love of living. You have always 
made my life brighter, Jessie, and you are 
naturally stronger than I am, and you know 
more than I ever knew. I feel safe in trust- 
ing you to God's care, and He will help you 
to care for Don. Now you go down-stairs 
and attend to your work. Send Don to stay 
with me, and when you come back at seven, 
you can bring my tea. I don’t want it before 
that time.” 

Jessie wiped her eyes, arranged her moth- 
er’s bed and helped her back there, drew 
close to it the stand where her cough-drops 
and cold water were, put by them an orange, 
and then lingered a moment. She could see 
nothing more to do, but her heart was full of 
tenderness toward the feeble woman. She 
bent over and kissed her, saying: “I will 
come back as soon as I can.” 

“Yes, don’t hurry ! You have always been 
good help to me, Jessie.” 


New Neighbors. 


3i7 


Half an hour later, when Jessie returned 
with the tea and toast, she found the light 
turned low, and Don quietly curled upfwatch- 
ing in the easy chair. 

“ She is asleep,” he said. “ She had a 
long, hard coughing spell, then she grew 
easy and said she would rest awhile.” 

Jessie went near the bed — the pale face 
had never looked so white ; the thin hands 
were crossed peacefully. Don’s mother was 
indeed asleep, at rest and blessed forever. 


318 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A HAPPY HOME. 

TWTISS JANET PAGE sat alone in her 
private office at the Home, and perhaps 
never in the two years since she had launched 
out in her charitable work had she been so 
cast down. No great calamity had overta- 
ken her. It is possible that she might have 
stood boldly under one or more great disas- 
ters ; but — McGinnis ! The dance hall ! The 
saloon on the corner ! The ingenuity with 
which that man tormented her was simply 
fiendish. He did nothing that could bring 
him within the clutches of the law. He 
affected to treat “ the old maid and her asy- 
lum,” as a huge joke, but he inspired every 


A Happy Home . 319 

rowdy in the ward with a sentiment of hos- 
tility toward her and her work. 

The outside walls of the Home were con- 
stantly bedaubed with ink, tar and rotten 
vegetables ; no windows could be kept open 
with safety or comfort. The noise by night 
was intolerable. The profanity, the indecen- 
cy and drunkenness at all times were sick- 
ening. Thieves insinuated themselves into 
the rooms of the Home on plausible pretexts, 
and stole. Unworthy women told pitiable 
stories, and engaged her rooms, ate the food 
she trusted them to pay for later, and then 
rewarded her faith with shameful trickery 
and malice. 

Good was being done. Others could see 
this, but just now Miss Page could not find 
any bright side to the picture. . She was con- 
stantly putting new hope and life into hon- 
est hard-working women. Six devout wo- 
men, formerly city missionaries, were now 
kept by her for tenement house visitation. 


320 Miss Janet's Old House . 

The first excitement in regard to the 
dance hall over, her temperance lectures 
and the prayer-meetings had filled up slowly. 
Nevertheless it seemed to-night, as Miss 
Page sat discouraged and weary — it seemed 
too unequal a contest. 

Suddenly the thought came to her that she 
was assuming a burden that the Lord never 
meant her to carry. She was making herself 
responsible for the entire success of his own 
peculiar work — the triumph of good over 
evil. 

A book marked at certain passages laid open 
on her desk. It was a pretty fashion of Louise 
Flemming thus to leave something for her 
cousin’s eyes. To-day, perhaps, knowing 
Miss Page’s trouble, she had purposely pen- 
cil-lined a poem of Jean Ingelow. 

“ And in the raising of their prayer to God 
They crave His kindness for the world He made, 

Till they at last forget that He, not they. 

Is the true lover of mankind . v 


A Happy Home. 


321 


Again Miss Page read : 

“I am not bound to make the wrong go right, 

But only to discover and to do 

With cheerful heart the work that God appoints.” 

“ There — that is a message for me, as truly 
as if I heard a voice from heaven,” exclaimed 
Miss Page. “ Now I will take courage and go 
on with my part of the business.” 

Putting on her bonnet and shawl, she 
started home with a lighter heart than she 
had carried for many a day. She was, even 
in these days, when youth was far behind 
her, a very impulsive woman ; and this after- 
noon, as she was hurrying home, she happen- 
ed to meet McGinnis face to face. He pre- 
tended not to see her ; but turning suddenly, 
she exclaimed, “ You cannot torment me any 
more. ‘ The Lord is on my side ; I will not 
fear what man can do unto me ; ’ and I have 
left you to him, McGinnis.” 

His brutal red face expressed stupid 
amazement, at first, then he burst into a roar 


21 


322 Miss Janet's Old House . 

of laughter and re-entered the “Retreat.’ 1 

Miss Page went on home with a strange 
new sense of relief, as if some burden she had 
been carrying had slipped suddenly to the 
ground. It was a beautiful day in April, and 
as Miss Janet walked along, choosing the 
quietest streets, the late sunshine of the after- 
noon glorified brick walls, brightening the 
new green grass in church yards ; the spar- 
rows seemed wild with delight at the re- 
turn of spring, and new hope returned to 
the tired worker’s heart. As she drew near 
her own house, she quickened her steps, for in 
that house was a wonderful attraction — the 
rarest spring blossom, Miss Janet declared 
it, that had ever gladdened a young mother. 
Louise’s little girl, or “ our new baby,” as Miss 
Page called it, was only two months old, but 
“so beautiful ! so knowing !” 

“What a blessed thing it was that Louise 
Norton ever sought me out, and clung to me, a 
crabbed old maid. God used her to humanize 


A Happy Home. 323 

me, to make me awake to the fact that I was a 
selfish, cold-hearted creature; and I am so 
glad her help did not end there. Just sup- 
pose now that I had my own home, as it 
used to be. I think I could not keep up any 
great amount of cheerfulness. The sight of 
so much sin and degradation as I have to 
contemplate, almost every day, the stories of 
ruined lives that I hear, all of this would 
darken life to me if, when I turned away from 
it all, at intervals, I did not find at home a 
little Paradise of sunshine and love. People 
insinuate that Louise gets as much as she 
gives in her life with me ; but it is not true. 
If she were to go out from my doors to-day, 
she would leave me only my money, with a 
cold, empty house, no home left full of good 
fellowship. Why, that little blue-eyed baby 
of hers is worth all the property I own. Its 
father would not make an even exchange 
with me, for all he laughs at my raptures 
over it.” 


324 Miss Janet's Old House, 

Miss Page had by this time reached home. 
Dolly, who had opened the door for her, 
said : “ nothing ” had “ happened ” since she 
went out at noon, and reported the baby 
“ good as a little angel.” 

“ She always is angelic,” returned Miss 
Janet, entirely oblivious to the fact that little 
Miss Flemming had cried with the colic two 
consecutive hours only the night before ; but 
Dolly, who agreed with her, was equally in- 
consistent. 

“ They are all in the library,” said Dolly ; so 
Miss Janet, giving her the bonnet and shawl, 
which she removed, turned toward this cosi- 
est room of all the house. 

Louise was sitting with her baby asleep in 
her arms, and her husband was reading. As 
Miss Janet entered, he was looking off his 
book to say to Louise: “ Here is something 
you will like — no wonder that Charles Kings- 
ley was more of a man than a parson. The 
brotherhood of men about which he talked 


A Happy Home. 


325 


so much, was really felt by him, and he evok- 
ed a like feeling in others. In a letter here 
he tells how one day he stopped in the 
street, before a shop-window, to look at a 
case of humming-birds. He says he was 
‘ gloating over the beauty of these feathered 
jewels — wondering what was the meaning, 
the use of it all — thinking of the treasures 
of unseen beauty created.’ Suddenly he 
turned to see close to him ‘ a huge brawny 
coal heaver, gazing also at the birds. He says, 

4 as I turned, he turned, and our eyes gleam- 
ed wondering, smiling sympathy. In that 
moment we felt ourselves friends, with a de- 
lightful sense of understanding one another, 
before we burst out : ‘ Isn’t that beautiful ! ’ 
Well, that is.” 

“ I know a parson,” said Louise smiling, 
“ who will never be a Canon of Westminster, 
of Chester, or of any other Cathedral, but he 
loves beauty so well, that he sees it in crowd- 


326 Miss Janet's Old House • 

ed streets, and rough men feel that he is their 
friend.” 

‘‘ Yes, that parson you speak of, loves 
beauty, and here is the proof of it,” returned 
Mr. Flemming, dropping his book and kiss- 
ing Louise, while Miss Page stoutly protested 
that the only beauty worth mentioning was 
possessed by her own precious, lovely little 
namesake ;” whereupon the namesake awoke 
and made a grimace. 

“ Mrs. Flemming,” said Dolly, appearing in 
the open door; “there is a young woman in 
the hall who wants to see you. Seems to me 
I’ve seen her, but I can’t tell where it was. 
She would.ft sit down, and she said if you 
were busy she wouldn’t bother you.” 

Louise arose, put the baby into its father’s 
arms, whence it was instantly taken by its 
venerable cousin ; then she followed Dolly 
to the hall. A thin, poorly clad girl, was 
standing there, and in the twilight she did not 
recognize her. 


A Happy Home. 327 

“ Do you remember Kitty Prior, Mrs. 
Flemming ?” 

“ Of course I do,” exclaimed Louise, cor- 
dially, “ and is this you, Kitty? Come right 
in this little room, where we can be alone, and 
telf me where you have been all this long 
time ?” 

Dolly had lighted the gas in the room 
which they entered, and Louise saw that 
Kitty’s pretty face was paler and sadder 
than ever before. Her dress was clean, but 
very poor, and with no such little attempts 
at finery as she formerly displayed. She 
colored, stammered, and then said, “ I came to 
see if you had any sewing that you wanted 
done, Miss Lo — Mrs. Flemming. I came 
here because I hated to ask for you at the 
Home.” 

“ If you want work, Kitty,” said Louise, 
kindly, “ no doubt I can help you to some, 
and if you want a friend, you can rely on me ; 
only tell me a little more about vourself.” 


328 Miss Janet's Old House . 

“ I ran away and got married,” said Kitty, 
with a glance at the ring on her finger. 

Louise, understanding her thoughts, replied 
kindly, “ We know that, for Miss Page talked 
with the minister who married you. We did 
not like to lose track of you so suddenly.” 

“You were always very kind, the best 
friend I ever had,” said Kitty, with more 
courage, adding, “ if you were not so good I 
should not come to you, when I think how 
hard you tried to have me not marry.” 

“ Poor child,” said Louise, gently, “ have 
you had trouble ?” 

Great tears filled Kitty’s beautiful eyes 
and rolled down the face that even now was 
childish in its pretty outlines. 

“ Such trouble — you can’t tell how I have 
cried — my heart is broken with it all.” 

“ Was your husband unkind, Kitty ?” 

To Louise’s great surprise Kitty exclaimed, 
after a passionate burst of grief : 

“No, he never said or did a real unkind 


A Happy Home . 329 

thing. He loved me just as well as I 
thought — and he — ” 

“ What could be the matter, then — is he 
dead ?” 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” returned Kitty, weep- 
ing afresh ; but soon restraining herself, she 
exclaimed : “ I will tell you the whole story. 
You know I never could tell you much 
about Jim Hazard — -that was his real name, 
though he called himself Tom, and after we 
were married I did not learn much more 
about his business. He said it had to do 
with hardware. Well, right after I ran 
away, we went to the far West, and hardly 
stopped until we got to a little out-of-the- 
way place near Kansas City. There we hired 
a few rooms, with money Jim said he had 
been saving, and we staid there all winter. I 
was just as happy as I could be. He was 
good and generous, he got me nice clothes, 
and did not want me to work. When he 
was home I was so contented I did not need 


Miss Janet s Old House . 


330 

friends, and when he went off to “ look for 
work,” he did not like me to make strange 
acquaintances. He looked for work all win- 
ter, but never seemed to find any. I 
wondered that he kept so good-natured and 
never worried, but he spent just as much for 
everything we needed. Some things puzzled 
me. He got queer letters and telegrams, that 
said queer things, or had no sense at all, and 
he would not tell me what they meant. He 
did drink, but it took a great deal to affect 
him, and he never was ugly to me. I sup- 
pose he was a bad man,” continued Kitty, 
pathetically ; “ he never went to any church, 
he hated to have me look at my Bible ; he 
would have burned it up one day, but I hap- 
pened to ask him if his mother never read 
her Bible, and he dropped it as if I had struck 
him. If he was not what he ought to have 
been, I loved him. Well, one day, almost 
four months ago, he came home in a great 
hurry and said he must start that very after- 


A Happy Home . 


33 1 


noon on a long journey. Where, or for what 
he was going, he would not tell. He wanted 
to leave me, and was counting out a lot of 
money to give me to last until he sent me 
word where to join him — when I cried and 
teased him to let me go too. I hung on him, 
so he gave up, and said if I would not talk to 
any one about myself or about him while we 
were gone, I could go. He forbade me to 
tell his name even. Well, we got to Chi- 
cago and staid there together a week. He 
kept saying he should tell me ‘ how to 
take care of myself if anything happened/ 
and he made me keep untouched a roll of 
money for hard times. I always wondered 
how a - working man could get so much 
money ahead, especially when he never 
seemed to have any work. Some things 
Don — something I heard once, made me 
scared for him sometimes. 

“ One evening we went to a theatre in the 
street where we were lodging. He was 


332 


Miss Janets Old House . 


laughing at the play, when I looked at him 
— I was all taken up with the performance 
myself, but when I turned around next time, 
Jim was not there, and I never have seen 
him from that day to this,” wailed Kitty, 
again shaken with sobs. 

Louise could suggest no comfort on the 
spur of the moment, for she could form no 
theory that would account for this man’s con- 
duct. 

“ Do you think he could have meant to 
desert you ? ” she asked, hesitatingly. 

“He did it — but what made him doit? 
He loved me. Wouldn’t you know after six 
months, whether or not your husband loved 
you ? ” asked Kitty fiercely, and Louise meek- 
ly answered: “Yes, I could not be mista- 
ken.” 

“ That night I thought it was a trick ; next 
day I was wondering, wondering. One 
woman in the house said he had got tired of 
me and I never would see him again. After- 


A Happy Home . 


333 


ward, when I halfbelieved that, I was tempt- 
ed to go and drown myself.” 

Unheeding Louise’s exclamation of horror, 
she went on : “I did not believe it. I staid 
where I was, being very careful of my money, 
and getting some shop work. I had a no- 
tion.” 

Kitty stopped abruptly in her story, saying : 
“ Will you promise to keep this notion of 
mine to yourself, if I tell you it ? ” 

After a little reflection, Louise promised, 
and Kitty went on. “ Sometimes I think he 
was doing wrong ; making tools for burglars 
or mixed up with them in some way, and that 
the secrets and the messages meant that. 
Perhaps he espied a detective, or some one 
he must avoid that night. Maybe he was 
running away from Kansas, as he had run 
from New York.” 

“ I think you are on just the right track in 
this, Kitty.” 

“ I thought so, and I said he must know 


334 Miss Janet's Old House. 

where to find me, if he wanted to let me know 
where he was later. He might have been 
caught, you know.” 

“ Yes, of course.” 

“ But he never sent me a line or a mes- 
sage, although I staid there nine weeks ; then 
I managed to get on to New York. I can’t 
tell why, but it seems to me he will get here 
sooner or later. If he ran away from me and 
does not mean to keep me any longer, he 
would come here, for he likes New York bet- 
ter than any other city. If he has been ar- 
rested, I may learn of it here. I don’t want 
to go back to the Home. I can’t see Jessie 
McCoy and the rest who warned me that I 
would come to trouble. I must get work to 
do where I lodge.” 

Louise talked a long time with the poor 

little deserted wife. She urged her to return 

* 

to the Home, but finding that was of no avail, 
she promised her help and sympathy. When 
the dinner-bell rang she called Dolly ; and 


A Happy Home. 


335 


tint friendly individual needed only a hint to 
take K tty to her cheerful domains and enter- 
tain her bountifully. As Louise led Kitty 
from the room; they met the little party 
coming from the library. Miss Page recog- 
nized Kitty's pretty face at once, and stopped 
to give her a very kindly greeting, asking no 
questions. She only displayed the dainty 
white robed baby, which she still carried in 
her arms, and she silently wondered at the 
tears gathering in Kitty’s great eyes as she 
looked at it and glanced back at Mr. Flem- 
ming holding open a door so carefully for his 
wife. Louise did not enter the door, but 
gently pushing Miss Janet toward it, lingered 
to say : 

“ Don’t give up courage, Kitty. We will 
pray every day from this time on, that God 
will find your husband for you and make you 
both love Him. God can move the heart of 
every man He ever made, if the man will 
only let Him.” 


336 Miss Janet's Old House. 


“ You are so good, Miss — Mrs. Flemming. 
I ought to have listened to you, but I loved 
Jim, even if he is not good ; but there must 
be a little good in him, for he loved his 
mother, though he never would tell me about 
her — and he did love me.” 

“ I can pray for him all the better,” was 
Louise’s reply, as she left her with a warm 
clasp of her little cold hand. 


One Night at the Dance HalL 337 


CHAPTER XIX. 

ONE I?IGHT AT THE DANCE HALL. 

TT was a warm evening in May, a few 
weeks after Miss Page’s brief interview 
with McGinnis, and it was well that lady had 
resolved not to vex her soul any more with the 
rumseller’s “ evil devices,” for these last were 
manifold. This night there was to be a “ mas- 
querade ball,” in the dance hall, and early 
in the evening the noise and rioting was like 
Pandemonium. Mr. Flemming, hearing of 
the proposed revelry, had kept his wife and 
her cousin from corning to the Home, but he 
had gone there with Baldwin, fearing their 
presence might be required. 

In the rear yard, tables were .set, and the 

22 


338 Miss Janet's Old House. 

place crowded with profane drinkers and vile 
women. Every few moments half-burned 
cigars, broken goblets and slops of liquor 
were dashed over the fence into Miss Page’s 
premises. 

“ It will be a wonder if they do not set 
fire to us before morning,” said Mr. Flem- 
ming, making fast the shutters of a window 
the glass of which had just been shivered. 
■‘If they could burn us without burning their 
own property, our case would be hopeless,” 
he added. 

“ Well, do you know,” said Baldwin, who 
was lending a helping hand, “ do you 
know, Mr. Flemming, I’ve had some queer 
notions lately. I aint so sure McGinnis 
would care if this dance hall did go. When 
he first bought the place he swelled awfully 
about the money he was putting into it, but 
he didn’t spend but precious little in genuine 
repairs. What he did do was to fill it up 
with showy movable fixin’s, and the biggest 


One Night at the Dance Hall. 339 

stock of rum-casks that ever I see. That was 
all to be expected. Well, Robertson says to 
me, one day here, a month or so ago, says he, 
‘ McGinnis has got the biggest insurance 
on this concern, bigger considerable than he 
has got on his other den.’ ” 

“ I suppose he thinks this place is more 
likely to burn than the Retreat,” said Mr. 
Flemming. “ He lives in the other place, and 
looks out for it more carefully.” 

“ Maybe ; but Robertson says somebody 
told him there were cart loads of casks there, 
that weren’t filled with liquor, by any 
means.” 

“ But we know there is rum enough sold 
there.” 

“ Oh, of course. Well, maybe it is a no- 
tion of mine that McGinnis doesn’t mean to 
lose anything if he does burn, but to make a 
good job of that ; but I do know that lately 
the good movable things he put in, have 
been taken over to the Retreat ; and except 


340 Miss Janet's Old House. 

the bar and the conveniences for whiskey-guz- 
zling, precious little is left The room where 
the dancing goes on, for instance, is furnished 
chiefly in pink tissue paper and indecent 
chromos.” 

“ Then you think McGinnis doesn’t care 
whether the place burns or not.” 

“ I think,” said Baldwin, dryly, “ that the 
devil is every bit as black as he is painted.” 

While they were talking, the matron en- 
tered and begged Baldwin to remain in the 
house all night. “You will think we are 
very cowardly, but there are so many women 
of us here, and only one man servant, be- 
sides the night watchman,” was her state- 
ment, made with a voluminous account of the 
evil deeds of the neighbors. 

Baldwin agreed to stay, and Mr. Flemming 
quieted the matron’s fears, assured her that 
he would remain himself, or better still have 
a policeman detailed for service, if there 
seemed any need for unusual precaution. 


One Night at the Dance Hall . 341 

“ I will stay anyway, until after midnight,” 
he added, “ for Mrs. Flemming told me I 
might, if I would have a carriage engaged to 
bring me home, and not go through the 
street alone.” 

At the usual hour, the inmates of the 
Home retired. Baldwin threw himself on a 
lounge in the reading room, and fell asleep, 
while Mr. Flemming took a book, and read 
undisturbed by the din of a brass band under 
the window. 

About midnight, the uproar out of doors 
gradually subsided, the street rabble melted 
away, the drinkers and card-players went 
home or drank themselves stupid. The dis- 
sipation went on within the dance hall. 
Mr. Flemming arose, put on his hat, turned 
down the gas, and went to the window to see 
if the hack he ordered had come. 

Suddenly cries of “ Fire ! Fire ! ” broke out 
on the air, and out from the adjacent hall 
poured a crowd of bawling men and women, 


342 Miss Janet's Old House, 

some shrieking with terror, some roaring 
with drunken laughter. 

They rushed into the street and gazed into 
the upper story of the building, from whose 
open windows began to swell the puffs of 
black smoke, and soon waving banners of 
flame. The fire alarms were sounding, and 
with their almost miraculous promptness the 
fire engines came tearing down the street, 
sending fiery showers through the darkness. 
More picturesque then than any transforma- 
tion scene in a theatre was the spectacle that 
followed, could one have looked at it as 
a cool outsider sees a play. In an inconceiv- 
ably short time the dance hall was a mass of 
flame, from the ground floor to the attic, and 
the efforts of the fire companies were chiefly 
directed toward the Home, which was, 
to all appearances, doomed. From every 
tenement house near by had issued men, 
women and children, who filled the street 
with a mass of noisy humanity, beaten back 


One Night at the Dance Hall. 343 

by the police, drenched and yelled at by the 
firemen. McGinnis, apparently beside him- 
self with excitement, was bellowing orders 
right and left to the motley crew of his adhe- 
rents. The inmates of the dance hall had 
been in costume, and now looked grotesque 
enough in the lurid light which flared on the 
painted faces, the vulgar finery of haggard 
women, of girls young in nothing but years. 

The Home caught fire first on the roof, and 
that burned rapidly. The matron was calm 
in real danger as she had been timid in antici- 
pation. With prompt obedience she carried 
out Mr. Flemming’s orders, and with Bald- 
win’s help everything that could be done was 
done at once. The lodgers were roused, 
time given them to collect their humble pos- 
sessions, and then they were helped through 
the crowd to a shelter elsewhere. 

When the roof of the dance house fell in 
with a crash, and a terrible rain of fire, the 
upper part of the Home was all in flames ; but 


344 Miss Janet's Old House . 

a fireman assured Baldwin they would save 
it yet. About this time McGinnis was attack- 
ed with a perfect fury of what seemed disin- 
terested energy to help “ save ” this last 
named property, and in spite of the police he 
effected an entrance into the house with sev- 
eral equally zealous followers. They seized 
articles from the rooms as yet untouched by 
the lire, and dashed them out of the windows. 
They helped with a kind of fiendish enthu- 
siasm, until force enough could be raised to 
hustle them out. 

With a horrid leer, and a worse oath, he 
passed Mr. Flemming, who had helped the 
police to clear the room. “ Never mind,”, he 
chuckled ; “ you’ve got the boarders all out, 
and if their diamonds is only insured, let the 
Bibles burn up along wid me whiskey bar- 
rels.” 

At the door he dodged the policeman, who 
ejected the rest of the mischief-working 
party, and darting into the reading-room he 


' One Night at the Dance Hall. 345 

set fire to a file of newpapers on a table cov- 
ered with other papers. He did it as coolly 
as he would have lighted his pipe — and the 
trick was as harmless. In a second, Bald- 
win dashed past him, tore down the papers, 
stamped out the kindling flames, exclaiming : 
“ Now, you wretch, I know you fired your 
own rum-hole, and you’ll never get your in- 
surance on it if honest men can hinder.” 

“ McGinnis was a powerful brute, with 
strength of arm to fell three men like Baldwin. 
He sprang forward, but Baldwin was more 
alert ; and at that moment firemen rushed 
through on their way up-stairs. McGinnis 
hurried to the front door, Baldwin followed 
the firemen. Twenty minutes more decided 
the matter. McGinnis’s house was destroyed, 
but the Home was saved. True, the fourth 
story was burned and the third smoked, 
drenched with water, and unfit for use, but 
time and money would make all as it had 
been formerly. 


346 Miss Janet's Old House, 

About this time Mr. Flemming and Bald 
win met in the lower hall, and the former 
said , “ The worst is past, I think. I have 
been trying to get word to my wife that I can- 
not come home, but she must not be alarmed. 
I doubt if she gets any message at all.” 

“ Maybe it is as well. If they knew 
what was going on you could not keep Miss 
Page at home.” 

“ What is that woman screaming ?” asked 
Mr. Flemming, with momentary curiosity. 

“ That,” said Baldwin, sarcastically, is Mrs. 
McGinnis. She is raving over their impend- 
ing poverty and the thousands gone to smoke. 
It is heart-rending to hear her tell of the 
‘ illigint ’ furniture which she says has been 
burned up in the ‘ hotel ’ part of this hall.” 

“Stand guard here, Baldwin, while the 
firemen want the door open. Meanwhile I 
will — ” 

Mr. Flemming never finished the sentence. 
Mrs. McGinnis, who stood only a few rods 


One Night at the Dance Hall . 347 

from the door, had become unguarded in her 
wild talk. She was showing out her spite 
that the “ old maid’s lodging house was a 
standing whin by all rights it should be ashes 
now. Bad luck to her stingy soul and her 
stuffed money bags — spoilin’ our trade — 
and — ” 

McGinnis heard her begin to quote a 
speech of his that might not serve him well 
if repeated. Swearing loudly, he hurried to- 
ward her, his hand outstretched to clutch her 
roughly, for in the din and confusion, not 
even his mighty voice could overpower her 
shrill one. 

Just then a heavy wooden cornice, all on 
fire, fell from Miss Page’s roof. It flashed 
flaming through the night, like a thunder- 
bolt ; and before the crowd could do more 
than fall back, one man on the other — it 
smote McGinnis to the earth and buried him 
in red hot coals. The people, stupefied with 
horror, did nothing for a second but groan ; 


348 Miss Janet's Old House . 

then two firemen dashed forward, others 
turned the hose that way, and at last 
(very soon, indeed, but it seemed an endless 
time) McGinnis was drawn out, crushed, 
horribly burned, a smoking mass, drenched 
with water. Mrs. McGinnis would have torn 
him from the men in convulsive fury, but re- 
straining her as they could, the firemen, at 
Mr. Flemming’s entreaty, bore him into the 
hall of the Home. He was not dead, but so 
terribly burned and mangled that his agony 
was enough to sicken the stoutest heart. 

As soon as anything could be done in the 
utter confusion that reigned everywhere, the 
police summoned an ambulance, but McGin- 
nis prayed, begged and plead to be let alone 
till “ a priest — a priest,” could come ; and 
Mrs. McGinnis fought off help from him, 
bellowing like some mad animal. Mr. Flem- 
ming and Baldwin, with oil and every remedy 
they could lay hands on, tried to give the man 
momentary alleviation of his agony, while 


One Night at the Dance Hall . 349 

one messenger ran for a priest and others for 
doctors. Before either priest or physician 
could get there, McGinnis was mad with pain. 
One moment he declared he should be in 
“ hell,” by morning. The next moment he 
implored them to keep him alive until the 
priest could save him from hell. Soon he be- 
gan to call for “ a drink ! a drink ! ” 

“ Wait until a doctor gets here,” begged 
Mr. Flemming. “ How do you know but 
liquor will make him worse off than he is ? ” 
But liquor was a panacea for all troubles 
with McGinnis’s friends, and liquor they now 
poured down him. Suddenly there was a 
slight stir at the door, and Mr. Flemming, 
glancing up, saw Miss Page come hastily in- 
to the room and stop, horror stricken, at the 
sight of the poor suffering wretch, whom she 
did not at once recognize. McGinnis, how- 
ever, saw her, and in the half-crazed brain 
of the tortured body, awoke a wild idea. 

“ She did it ! ” he shrieked. “ She put a 


350 Miss Janet's Old House. 

curse on me one night ! She left me to God, 
and she fixed the curse on me ! She said I 
don’t fear ye, McGinnis ! ” — Then with min- 
gled oaths and prayers, he implored them to 
send again for another priest. 

A doctor arrived first, but even while he 
was doing what he could for the poor wretch, 
McGinnis’s cries changed to groans, his 
groans to gasps, and when a priest at last 
came, he found him unable to speak, his 
huge frame quivering with anguish. The 
mummery of “ preparing,” him for death was 
scarcely began, before life fled, and there, in 
the house that he had planned to burn, lay 
the unsightly corpse of the rum seller, who 
had vowed to rid the neighborhood of Miss 
Janet Page. 

Since entering the room, Miss Page had 
seemed to herself to be in some dreadful 
dream. The scene before her was as unreal 
as the scene just over the threshold, where, 
outside, the burning walls were still turn- 


One Night at the Dance Hall. 351 

bling in over the spot where a few hours be- 
fore McGinnis’s dancers had caroused. 

“This is too terrible for you, Cousin 
Janet,” said Mr. Flemming, coming to lead 
her away from the room ; for Mrs. McGinnis, 
learning of her husband’s death, was giving 
way to her feelings as only such a woman 
can, and to hear her was harrowing. “ All 
the inmates of both houses were saved, let 
us be thankful for that ; and may God save 
their souls, as he has saved their bodies.” 

“ Oh, I did not curse that poor sinner,” 
moaned Miss Janet. “ God knows I pitied 
him, even while I feared him.” 

“ Well, he will never harm us any more ; 
of course you never wished him evil, but God 
has dealt with him as he saw fit. How came 
you here, anyway, and where is Louise? I 
hope she is not in suspense or distress.” 

“No, I told her you thought best to stay 
all night; then I learned from the messenger 
there was trouble here, and I could not stay 


352 Miss Janet's Old House . 

away. Dolly promised not to let her worry. 
Now tell me how the fire started?” 

“ Perhaps we will never know how ; but 
there is good reason to suppose that poor 
wretch in there fired his own house, having 
insured it for more than it was worth. I 
would not lay more sins to his account than 
he was guilty of committing, but Baldwin 
thinks that he meant this house to go with 
his own.” 

But little time could be spent at that hour 
and place, in talking of the night’s events. 
Although the danger seemed past, no one 
could be sure of that, and many precautions 
must be taken. When daylight dawned, the 
ravages of the fire were plainly visible. The 
dance hall was entirely demolished. The 
exterior of Miss Page’s house was marred, 
bricks blackened and glasses broken, while 
the upper stories, were completely ruined by 
fire and water. The lower floors were un- 
harmed. Before night the lodgers were all 


One Night at the Dance Hall. 353 

again installed in comfortable quarters. This 
was done by economizing space and making 
some rooms do double duty. 

McGinnis’s death made a great sensation 
throughout the entire neighborhood. Among 
certain classes, he was talked of as a great pub- 
lic character. One hearing the “ pot-house 
politicians ” discourse on his career, would 
have supposed him a patriot, and a states- 
man. Another class, the poor ignorant 
wives of drinking men, secretly rejoiced that 
there was one less rumseller to take the food 
from their children’s mouths. 

Mrs. McGinnis, was a bigoted Catholic, 
and withal superstitious to the last degree. 
Out of the horror of that dreadful night of the 
fire she had brought a firm belief in one 
thing, which inspired her with an intense fear 
of Miss Janet Page. Her dying husband 
had declared that Miss Page had cursed 
him, and that curse had worked his destruc- 
tion, and the ruin of his dance hall. But 
23 


354 Miss Janet's Old House . 

for this, she believed that her husband might 
be alive, and prosperous ; whereas he had 
died without the offices of the Church, and 
was now suffering tortures. She fairly raved 
in her grief and terror, so that Miss Page, 
learning of it, went herself to the poor crea- 
ture to assure her that she had never even 
wished real harm to McGinnis, much less curs- 
ed him. But the wife, who knew only too well 
how her husband had hated Miss Janet, and 
all her undertakings, and who did not know 
in the faintest degree the long-suffering pa- 
tience of the true Christian, could not be con- 
vinced that her fears were foolish. 

Strange good comes out of strange evil 
sometimes. Credulous women, and half 
brutalized men, discussed Miss Page and re- 
peated the story of her interview with Mc- 
Ginnis. Her simple use of Bible language : 
“ ‘ The Lord is on my side, I will not fear 
what man can do unto me ’ — and I have left 
you to him — ” these words were repeated, per- 


One Night at the Dance Hall. 355 

verted, and dwelt upon until the impression be- 
gan to prevail that here was a woman, and an 
enterprise not to be meddled with malicious- 
ly, if one would escape a mysterious ven- 
geance. 

“She never harmed us, and she's better 
now for a friend than an enemy,” whispered 
more than one ignorant creature to some 
crony as she passed the door. 

Soon after McGinnis’s funeral — such a 
funeral ! the carriages blocked the streets 
each way, and Mrs. McGinnis had her wish, 
loudly expressed in the excitement of ignor- 
ance and grief — that McGinnis “should have 
a reception the like of which her neighbors 
had never seen.” After it she announced 
her intention of selling out the business and 
going to live with her sisters in Cincinnati. 

In a few -weeks Mr. Robertson informed 
Miss Page that in all probability, she coula 
yet purchase the lot next her own. He had 
heard that the insurance companies refused 


356 Miss Janet's Old House . 

to pay anything like the sum demanded of 
them, for if it could not be proved that the 
dance hall was set on fire, there was abun- 
dant evidence that McGinnis had over-insured 
the building and its reputed contents. Liv- 
ing he might have fought for his claims ; 
dead it was easy to prove him a cheat. Mrs. 
McGinnis, firm in the faith that the place 
had been looked upon by Miss Page's “ evil 
eye,” would probably sell the lot for a fair 
price. 

“ I do not doubt,” said Mr. Flemming, one 
day, “ that by the time we have rebuilt that 
part of your house destroyed by fire, and put 
all again in order, that we can go directly at 
work to build on the next lot, just as commo- 
dious a dwelling as your heart desires, or 
your purse admits.” 

“ I suppose some other rumseller will buy 
the Retreat,” said Miss Page, reflectively. 

“ Without a doubt, but we will hope he 
may not have McGinnis’s influence. Our 


One Night at the Dance Hall. 357 

line of procedure must be just the same, to 
act on the principle that the only way to re- 
generate the world, is to do the duty which 
lies nearest us,” returned Mr. Flemming. “It 
would be a fine thing to pronounce (as poor 
Mrs. McGinnis fancied you did) a Biblical 
curse on every rum-hole in this city, and then 
see a fire sweep through to consume every 
drop of intoxicating liquor ; but that is not a 
practical crusade for us to set on foot. We 
must just go on quietly, helping men and 
women, soul and body, as we can catch them. 
If the brawling sot is just made pure by the 
blood of Christ, he will become peaceable by 
natural consequence. Our prayer-meetings, 
our hot coffee, our temperance lectures, our 
employment bureau, our cheap rooms and 
free literature, are only traps to catch sinners. 
When we have caught them, only the Great 
Physician can cure them. In a work like 
ours, no one stupendous result is ever achiev- 
ed ; it is simply sowing beside all waters — do- 


358 Miss Janet's Old House. 

ing what our hands find to do, and leaving 
the rest to the Lord.” 

“ Yes, and I am glad every day of my life, 
that we are doing it all with no fuss or pa- 
rade. Our chief workers work from love ; our 
domestics are faithful, and we pay them well ; 
but we make no paupers, we ask no public 
adulation, and we need no outside funds. For 
this last fact, I thank God. How good He 
has been to me. I often wonder that He did 
not take all my money away from me in 
those long years I was hoarding it for 
naught.” 

“You are spending it lavishly enough 
now.” 

“ I am growing old,” returned Miss Page 
thoughtfully. 

“ Nonsense, Cousin Janet; you are barely 
past middle life.” 

“ Thank you for your gallantry,” she said, 
smiling ; then shutting down the lid of her 
desk, she continued, “ I have been thinking 


One Night at the Dance Hall. 359 

of some business matters very seriously of 
late. I am not old, it is true, but I am on the 
down-hill side of life, and all my family died 
young. I came of a short-lived stock. This 
being true, I think it best to arrange my af- 
fairs so that in case of my death, matters 
might go on as I wish. I have other rela- 
tives beside Louise. They are worldly, well- 
to-do people, who have never cared for me, 
calculating they would get as much or as lit- 
tle of my property after my death, if they 
wasted no time or trouble on me living. 
They are right. I shall leave them nothing. 
Louise loved me when I was a most unlova- 
ble mortal. I have always loved her. I 
shall leave her a sum sufficient to keep her 
in comfort all her life, and shall put at inter- 
est a sum for the baby. The rest* of my 
money I want to leave for temperance work ; 
but I wish it left under the wisest regulations. 
So long as this Home can go on with suc- 
cess, doing perceptible good in this part of 


360 Miss Janet's Old House. 

the city, I want it maintained ; and I shall 
make provisions for any changes or improve- 
ments that may seem advisable as time runs 
on. You have been so wise a counsellor, and 
so active a worker in the past, that naturally 
I cling to the thought of sometime leaving 
you to be the head and manager of the es- 
tablishment ; but this is in a sense selfish. 
You are fitted for a far more conspicuous posi- 
tion in life ; you will be here quite outside the 
circle where earthly honors are bestowed. I 
want you therefore, Mr. Flemming, to take a 
few months to review the situation. At the 
end of that time, tell me if I may leave you 
to carry out my plans, and better ones, per- 
haps, later, of your own ; or if you will, re- 
main with me only as the dear friend and 
relative you are.” 

Miss Page was not surprised that Mr. 
Flemming made no reply to this confidence 
of hers. She knew that he would find it a 


One Night at the Dance Hall. 361 

subject to be long thought about before he 
arrived at a conclusion. He had listened 
with a grave face, and he sat a long time 
after she ceased, in silent meditation. 


362 Miss Janet's Old House. 


CHAPTER XX. 

NEWS FROM AFAR. 

TT'ROM the day that Mrs. McCoy died, 
Miss Page had given Jessie reason to 
know that in her the desolate girl had found a 
firm friend. In the first place she gave her a 
more responsible position in the house, mak- 
ing her the assistant of the matron, at a sal- 
ary sufficient to provide for herself and Don. 
For Don, Miss Page had always felt a deci- 
ded affection, and she now looked out for his 
welfare in various ways. He was going to 
school regularly and doing himself credit. 

“ I think, Lousie,” said Miss Page to her 
cousin, as they sat together one day at home 
— “ I think that Jessie McCoy is a remarka- 
ble girl.” 


News from Afar. 


363 


“ She is very attractive and very intelli- 
gent too, considering the few advantages she 
has had,” said Louise, who was playing with 
her small daughter. 

“ I would have sent her somewhere last 
year to fit her fora teacher, but I thought she 
owed a duty to her mother, who was getting 
feeble and needed her. The other day I had 
a long friendly talk with Jessie, and it really 
seems as if the girl had learned as much in 
the last two years as she could have learned 
in any school. Of course the information 
gained is of a more miscellaneous character, 
but it is of a kind to serve her well through 
life. She reads the best books she has ac- 
cess to, and digests them.” 

“It is not too late to fit her for teaching 
now, if you wish it.” 

“ No. I believe I will ask her if she cares 
to begin such a career. But there is Don, I 
never thought of him. Jessie promised to be 
a mother to him, and never to leave him 


364 Miss Janet's Old House . 

to strangers. Perhaps, after all, we had best 
let well enough alone.” 

At that moment Dolly appeared to say 
that the subject of their conversation was in 
the house, and would like to see Mrs. Flem- 
ming a little while, if she were at leisure. 

“ Let her come right in here,” said Miss 
Page. “ She wants to see the baby, she told 
me so ; as for me I must go and write some 
business letters.” 

Jessie came as soon as Dolly gave her 
permission, and for a little while Mrs. Flem- 
ming supposed that the motive of her visit 
was to see the remarkable baby, whose 
praises Miss Janet sounded, as Louise said, 
“ in season and out.” 

But when the young mother had displayed 
all her accomplishments, some of which were 
purely imaginary, she began to notice that 
Jessie was very nervous and pre-occupied, 
that her eyes were very bright, her cheeks 
very pink. 


News from Afar \ 


3 6 5 


“ She wants to tell me something, and 
I must make it easy for her,” thought her 
quick-witted hostess, beginning to make the 
conversation personal. She asked about the 
books Jessie was reading, of her Sunday- 
school class, and told her that Mr. Robertson 
said she was taming some very wild children 
in that class. By the way, Mr. Robertson 
talked of returning to England, and her hus- 
band was very sorry ; he should miss his help. 

Glancing at her young visitor, Louise saw 
such a rush of color flood Jessies face at the 
mere mention of this man’s name, that she 
divined something of the truth, and quietly 
inquired if Jessie had become acquainted 
with James Robertson. 

Then, with much bashfulness and many 
blushes, Jessie told her story. 

James Robertson had for a long time, in a 
manner as persistent as it was respectful, 
sought her friendship. Coming to the various 
meetings at the invitation of Mr. Flemming, 


3 66 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


he had ample opportunity to talk with Jessie. 
These interviews, if brief and public, were fre- 
quent. He had until a few weeks previous to 
this day talked of many matters mutually in- 
teresting, but not very personal. He had, 
however, lately received business letters re- 
questing him to -return to England. When 
he had told Jessie of their contents, he told 
her also that he loved her, and asked her to 
marry him. 

“ Ah, Mr. Flemming will now understand 
something that has puzzled him,” exclaimed 
Louise, smiling. “ He said only yesterday 
that Mr. Robertson had brought him a great 
budget of letters from various parties in 
England, certifying to what no one here had 
ever doubted ; his integrity of character. 
One was from his pastor, who had known 
him since boyhood I see he wanted all of us 
to be satisfied that you were running no 
risk. — Do you love him, Jessie ?” 


News from Afar . 367 

“ I — I — have refused to marry him.” 

“ Why ?” 

“ He is not very well off, and he is from a 
family who think considerable of position, and 
all that, if they are poor. He told me once 
they wanted him to marry a girl with money. 
Now, wherever I go I must take Don, and I 
must look out for him until he can do it for 
himself. Mr. Robertson insists that he will 
take Don too, and do for him as he would do 
for his own brother ; but I don’t think that 
best. He must go back to England, and 
his mother and sisters would tell him we 
were great burdens on a poor man.” 

“ I don’t think you are wise in this,” said 
Louise, promptly. “ You are not marrying 
his family, but James himself ; if you love one 
another, and he is able and anxious to sup- 
port both Don and you, and he is every way 
worthy of you, then I think you are acting 
rather rashly.” 

“ He declared that he was coming to you 


368 Miss Janet's Old House . 


and to Mr. Flemming, and that he should make 
you convince me that I was stubborn ; so I 
came first to tell you my reasons,” said Jes- 
sie. “ I do not want him to present me to a 
disappointed, disgusted family over there in 
England, and have them say I was a poor no- 
body, and made him promise to take care 
of Don.” 

“ Would you leave Don to Miss Page for 
a few years ? I think she would see that he 
was provided for.” 

“Never,” exclaimed Jessie, quickly. “I 
promised his mother not to do anything of 
that kind. It would be very generous in 
Miss Page, and just like her to propose it; 
but it would be shirking my duty, to turn nry 
brother over to her.” 

“Yes, in so far as it may be a question of 
duty, I agree with you ; and if Mr. Robertson 
asked you to choose between doing your 
duty by Don, or marrying, I should say you 
were right ; but have you not made it a mat- 


News from Afar. 369 

ter of pride, as well as duty, Jessie? He does 
not ask you to leave Don.” 

Jessie gave such a decided little shake 
of her pretty head that Louise laughingly 
added : 

“ Who would have thought you such an 
obstinate little creature ? I always supposed 
you were very yielding.” 

“No, I am Scotch.” 

“ But, England has been known to subdue 
Scotland before this.” 

It was Jessie’s turn to laugh; but when 
she went away a half hour later, she was still 
obstinate, although she confessed that she 
loved James Robertson. 

Soon after Jessie’s interview with Mrs. 
Flemming, James Robertson, in his turn, sought 
the advice and help of Miss Page and the 
Flemmings. They were inclined to think, 
as he thought, that Jessie was a little proud 
and over particular, yet they respected her 
independence of character. 

24 


3 7° Miss Janet's Old House . 

Miss Page, however, said privately to 
Louise : 

“It may be all for the best. If he is every 
way worthy of a good wife, he can afford to 
wait a few years. Even if he waited until 
Jessie should be twenty-four or five, it would 
be no great thing. By that time, Don will 
be almost able to take care of himself, while 
Jessie, if she developes as rapidly as she has 
developed in the last year, will be fully 
equal to any position he would be likely to 
fill in England or America.” 

“ That is exactly what Jessie herself says, 
when she talks of the matter with me,” re- 
plied Louise. “ But I think when the time 
really comes for him to sail, she will not be 
so cool and sensible. I do not want her to 
have anything to regret, when it is too late to 
alter her decision.” 

“Mr. Robertson sails the first day of July, 
and she has a month to think about it before 
he goes.” 


37i 


News from Afar. 

As for Jessie herself, she went about her 
duties at the Home, as demurely as if noth- 
ing more exciting had ever entered her mind ; 
only she grew a little paler and thinner. Her 
outward conduct was, however, no index of 
the conflict she was undergoing. Sometimes 
she was tempted to leave Don with Miss 
Page. Surely this would not be to leave 
him to a stranger. He would have more ad- 
vantages than she herself could obtain for 
him ; but if she did this, she ran away from a 
duty she had solemnly assumed. Again she 
wavered between the inclination to marry 
James, then to take Don with her to England 
regardless of her husband’s family, and a re- 
solve never to subject herself to unfriendly 
criticism. She grew actually morbid on this 
last point. 

About the middle of June, she experienced 
something which changed the whole current 
of her affairs. 

It was a lovely morning, and one peculiarly 


372 Miss Janet's Old House. 

pleasant at the Home, for the work of repair 
was progressing with astonishing rapidity, 
and better still, that day Miss Janet was to 
come into possession of the lot whereon had 
stood the dance hall, and where she now 
proposed to erect another building connected 
with that one still standing. 

Early this day she had come to the Home 
with Mr. Flemming, and they were busy over 
many papers and accounts in Miss Page’s 
office. 

Jessie was passing through the hall, when 
the postman came, delivering a much larger 
mail than usual. Miss Page, on going to her 
office, had said to Jessie: “I expect some 
important business letters this morning. 
Please bring them up as soon as they come.” 

There they were, to be sure, several bulky 
epistles; and Jessie, calling out two or three 
addresses to the lodgers, hastened up-stairs 
with the rest. 

Miss Page received her letters eagerly, and 


News from Afar. 373 

Jessie was leaving the room, when Mr. Flem- 
ming detained her by asking a question. 
Before she could reply, Miss Page exclaimed: 

“ Why this big envelope is directed to you, 
Jessie, and it is a foreign letter.” 

“A foreign letter !” she repeated, with a 
confused notion of James Robertson, and the 
dreaded English relatives. Then blushing at 
such inconsequent reasoning, she took the 
letter, and gazed at the stamp and the writ 
ing> making no attempt to open it. 

“ Maybe it is from those Scotch friends to 
whom you told me you once wrote, but ne- 
ver heard from,” suggested Miss Page; then, 
not wishing to appear curious, the lady turn- 
ed to talk with Mr. Flemming. Jessie went 
directly to her own room, opened the letter, 
and puzzled over its contents for a long 
time, her face getting very animated, before 
she looked up to cross her hands and smil- 
ingly study the objects in her room, seeing 
none of them. Then she arose and hurried 


374 


Miss Janet's Old House. 


down again to the office. Her tap on the 
door was answered by Miss Page, who said : 
“Come in and Jessie, more excited than they 
had ever seen her, exclaimed : 

“Will Mr. Flemming be kind enough to 
read all this letter, and tell me if I under- 
stand it aright. It is very strange ! ” 

Mr. Flemming took it from her hand, and 
read it slowly aloud, with frequent comments 
and explanations. 

The sum and substance of the letter was 
as follows. 

The letter which Jessie had written to the 
minister at Greenock had been handed by 
him to the person whom he thought most 
likely to give it due attention. He was him- 
self ill, at the time he received it, and died a 
few weeks after. The person holding the 
letter, had kept its reception a secret, for ob- 
vious reasons. 

When Jessie’s mother came to America, 
she left, or Jessie supposed she left, two sis- 


News from Afar. 


375 


ters behind her, both poor and unmarried. 
These sisters had lived in Greenock about 
ten years, in a very plain way for women 
brought up in comparative affluence, yet they 
never were poor in the sense the McCoys 
had been poor. After ten years, certain pro- 
perty almost worthless at their fathers death, 
rose in value, and they came into very com- 
fortable circumstances. They removed to 
Edinboro’, where they lived ever afterwards. 
They wrote repeatedly to America, asking 
information about the two children of their 
sister, after they had learned of the latter’s 
death ; but no letter had ever been received, 
or at least replied to — and Jessie remember- 
ed that her step-mother could not recall any. 
Probably they were lost, as Jessie’s father 
moved almost every year from tenement to 
tenement. Margaret McClise died five 
years previous to the date of this letter just 
at hand. She left her share of the property 
to Elizabeth, and after her death, two third 


376 Miss Janet's Old House. 

cousins of theirs had come to live with Eliza- 
beth, whose health was feeble. One cousin 
was a woman of middle age; the other, her 
brother, a younger man, who assumed much 
responsibility in Miss Elizabeth’s business 
affairs. Two months before that person’s 
death, Jessie’s letter was forwarded by the 
minister at Greenock, and was not shown to 
her or to any one; for Robert Nelson justly 
argued that it might change Miss Elizabeth’s 
will in a way not advantageous to himself or 
to his sister. When Jessie’s aunt died, he 
found, much to his chagrin, that she had left 
them only one-half her property, exclusive of 
her house and its belongings. The other 
half she had left to Jessie and her brother, in 
case they could be found within the next ten 
years. The house also was to be Jessie’s, 
with all it contained. If the McCoy children 
were not found after ten years, all was to go 
to the Nelsons. Fortunately Miss Elizabeth 
had appointed worthy and disinterested men 


News from Afar. 


377 


to administer her affairs, although these, un- 
aided by Nelson, had not been able to get 
any clew to the other heirs. 

Nelson knew that the Greenock pastor 
was dead, and resolved to bide his time, sure 
of ultimately coming into full possession. 
It was unfortunate for him, that the wife of 
the Greenock pastor had been a wide awake 
curious little body, who had read every word 
of Jessie’s letter and rejoiced in it, as exceed- 
ingly interesting. She had even noted down 
in her diary, Jessie’s address, with all the 
points of her story, before her husband sent 
off the epistle. Months later, when by chance 
she learned of Elizabeth McClise’s death, she 
wrote, out of the abundance of her curiosity, 
asking if the American niece had been sent 
for, and dwelling cn the letter that came from 
her to her husband. 

This letter did not fall into Nelson’s hands, 
but was received by the men whom Miss Mc- 
Clise had wisely chosen to settle her estate. 


378 Miss Janet's Oid House . 


Now was Jessie McCoy prepared to start 
for Scotland, to prove her identity, and to 
take possession of a property not large, but 
enough to make her no longer dependent on 
others for the support of herself and her bro- 
ther. True, little Don was not the brother 
born years ago in Scotland, but he was Jessie’s 
brother, and she could henceforth do for him, 
as her warm heart and her not weak judg- 
ment dictated. 

All this Mr. Flemming made plain as he 
read, interrupted by frequent exclamations 
from Miss Janet, whose interest was lively. 
Jessie sat like one in a dream. She could 
not sorrow for relatives whom she had never 
known, she could not but delight in her good 
fortune. 

She was recalled to the present by a 
remark of Miss Page : 

“ Now Jessie, you must go to Scotland, 
and you cannot well go alon * m \ unprotect- 
ed,” exclaimed that lady, with a smi.e so su to - 


News from Afar . 379 

gestive, that Jessie was suddenly much con- 
fused, but she stammered : 

“ Don will go with me, of course.” 

Miss Janet refrained from some remarks 
which she was tempted to make then and 
there. Instead they talked over every phase 
of this new and interesting event in the 
young girl’s life. Both Mr. Flemming and 
Miss Janet were pleased and impressed by 
the self-possession and good sense Jessie 
evinced, while she was unmistakably greatly 
excited. She showed no silly elation at the 
mere idea of being “ rich,” for in comparison 
with absolute poverty her new property must 
La\ e seemed riches; but she simply expressed 
joy at the thought of having a real home of 
her own. When at last she left Mr. Flem- 
ming and Miss Page again alone, she went 
about her usual duties with the fancies of a 
child reading a fairy story. Was it possible 
that she could leave behind her the hard, dull 
life of her o-iHhood, and be free to live a life 

o 7 


380 Miss Janet's Old House . 


of ease or luxury ? She did not wish that, 
but one free from care about food and rai- 
ment. Was she going to be able to see fields 
and flowers, when the old longings for nature 
took hold of her — free to help others, as she 
had been helped. 

Then certain other thoughts came to Jes- 
sie. Now she need not fear the sneers of 
any “ family now her brother would be in- 
dependent of any help from any one save his 
sister. This being the case, what followed ? 

Well, it followed that when Miss Janet 
Page started to go home that noon, she stop- 
ped in the little linen room where Jessie 
was counting out clean linen, and sitting be- 
side the young girl, she said : “ Shall you 
marry James Robertson now ?” 

“ What would you advise me to do ?” 

Miss Janet’s eyes twinkled ; for Jessie had 
not asked any advice heretofore, and she 
knew what the advice given would be like. 

“ I should say that if you loved him you 


News from Afar . 


33i 


had better marry him before the time comes 
for either of you to leave the country. This 
opinion of mine is of course based on the con- 
viction that he is a thoroughly worthy man. 
He won Mr. Flemming’s respect long before 
he had any interest in securing our favor, and 
he has given every proof that we could ask 
in regard to his past correct life, and his 
friends in England.” 

He certainly liked me when I was as poor 
as poor could be, and now it makes no differ- 
ence with Don ; so perhaps — ” 

“ Perhaps some of these lovely June days 
we will have a quiet little wedding, and with 
the blessing of God, Jessie, you will sail away, 
across the sea, to make a new home in the 
land where your mother made hers years 
ago. Do you never think how her prayers 
all along are being answered for you ? 
You have seen trouble and poverty, but it 
has disciplined, not injured you.” 

I have seen everything to make me a grate- 


382 Miss Janet's Old House . 

ful girl since that morning you saw mother 
and me, tired and discouraged, without know- 
ing where we could live or how.” 

“ How well I remember that day myself. 
Well, I must go now, Jessie, but when you 
find time come up to my house and talk with 
Mrs. Flemming ; she will be greatly interest- 
ed in all your affairs.” 

It was certainly true that Louise did have 
a lively interest in Jessie’s prospects, but after 
all it was Miss Janet who became so engaged 
in the matter that Mr. Flemming teased her 
unmercifully. He called her a match-maker, 
he accused her of romantic proclivities, and 
suggested that if she once let her capabilities 
in that way be known, her Home would be 
the haven of countless young maidens and 
artful spinsters. Miss Janet laughed good 
naturedly and went her way. Her own bus- 
iness plans, consultations with architects 
about the new building, and enlarged schemes 
of benevolence, were varied by little friendly 


News from Afar . 383 

chats with Jessie about what she must have 
for an outfit, suitable, and not too long in pre- 
paration — when the marriage should take 
place, and fifty other absorbing questions. 

Don heard of all the proposed changes 
with great delight. To cross the ocean was 
an event so interesting to anticipate, that he 
cared little what came after. He confessed 
that he should regret to leave his friends (and 
every one who knew Don was his friend,) but 
if he might take Kaiser, he would follow Jes- 
sie to the end of the world. 

When James Robertson learned of the 
Scotch le'tter, which had so altered Jessie’s 
mind, he was naturally exceedingly happy ; 
but it pleased both Mr. Flemming and Miss 
Page to observe that the fact of Jessie’s 
newly acquired possessions did not seem to 
give her the least more value in his eyes, but 
he chiefly rejoiced in her good fortune be- 
cause it removed her objection to marrying 
him, and made her content 


384 Miss Janet's Old House. 

Indeed, Mr. Robertson now playfully ob * 
jected to taking back an “ heiress ” to his 
“ family,” lest they should accuse him of mar- 
rying “ for money.” 

Meanwhile the early summer days slipped 
by, until there came one perfect in sunshine, 
beautiful enough for the happiest wedding. 
In a quiet room of the Home there gathered 
a simple little group of Jessie’s friends. 
They were mainly the women and girls 
living in the house, but they were sincere in 
their friendship for the bright young girl. 
They had made the room pretty with sum- 
mer flowers, and had united to give Jessie a 
parting gift, a travelling case, nicely fitted up 
with useful articles. Miss Page was there 
with a beautiful Bible, the best of many well 
chosen gifts. Louise and her baby com- 
pleted the informal company, gathered about 
the attractive young couple. Mr. Flemming 
married them, and in a heartfelt prayer com- 
mended them to the watchful care of their 


News from Afar. 


385 


Heavenly Father, as they started that day 
together across the sea, and out on the jour- 
ney of life. 

Following the ceremony came a collation, 
arranged by Louise, and then came the good- 
by to the Home, Jessie ran up for a last look 
at her little room, standing on the threshold 
to wish that the next inmate might carry 
away from it as happy a heart when it came 
time to go out as Jessie that day carried. 
Then the carriages came, and into one went 
the bride and groom, Don, and no less a com- 
panion than Kaiser. Wearing a new collar 
and chain, he bore himself with great dignity. 
In the other carriage went the Flemmings 
and Miss 'Page, down to the steamer, bound 
for Glasgow. 

They lingered on the boat for a little 
while, then Mr. Flemming bade the ladies 
who were not going to Scotland return to 
New York. 

Jessie crept near to Miss Janet and Louise, 


3 86 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


whispering : “I shall probably never see you 
again, but all my life I shall thank God that ' 
I ever knew you. You were so good to my 
poor brother and to my sick mother ; 
you pointed each of us to the Saviour, you 
gave us a home and food. Everything good 
has come to me through you. It was Mrs. 
Flemming even who put the thought into 
my mind to write to Scotland.” 

Miss Janet’s heart beat gratefully as she 
looked in the young wife’s beautiful face ; but 
she turned to Don, saying : “ If I have done . 
anything of this, Jessie, here is the preacher 
who taught me first how selfish a life I was liv- 
ing, “not to care ” for my neighbors. Now 
remember, Jessie, you have promised to send 
Don to tne, if when he is older, he wants to 
return to America. You know he is not a 
Scotchman.” 

Mr. Flemming then hurried his party away, 
and in a few moments the great steamer 


News from Afar. 


3*7 


moved slowly from the pier. Before the sun 
reached the meridian, it had passed from 
sight. 

Miss Janet was happy that day, for the 
echo of Jessie’s words was sweet 


388 Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE PRODIGAL SON. 

IV/TRS. FLEMMING had given the 
main facts of poor Kitty’s story to her 
cousin, and both ladies felt for her much 
sympathy. They would have liked it if Kitty 
could have been induced to return to the 
Home, but this they could not prevail upon 
her to do. However, there was no danger 
now that Kitty would be led away by gay 
company ; she had lost all heart for those 
things that once so amused her. She boarded 
with a plain hard-working woman, who was 
glad to have her live with her ; for Kitty 
could sew at home, and see that an invalid 
child of the woman did not suffer for want of 
care in the mother’s absence. 


The Prodigal Son . 


3 % 


Miss Page was soon able to send Kitty 
some plain sewing ; and both she and Louise 
did their best to cheer her. Neither of them 
had supposed Kitty capable of so intense a 
love as she showed for her unworthy hus- 
band; but the hope of finding him now, 
seemed her one inspiration ; and when she 
lost faith in his affection for her, nothing 
could arouse her to an interest in life. Miss 
Page had not in her own mind the least 
doubt but that this husband had deserted 
Kitty in cool villany ; while Louise, who 
knew more of the man himself from the hints 
Kitty had given her, could easily account for 
his sudden disappearance on other grounds. 
It was rather poor consolation to suggest 
that he might be serving a term in some pris- 
on, and had run away that night to escape 
the officers of the law ; but Kitty preferred 
this view of the case to the supposition that 
he had deserted her voluntarily. 

It was a little strange, considering her 


390 


Miss Janet's Old House. 


husbands reticence on the subject, that 
Kitty should have brooded so much over fan- 
cies of his father and mother. For no ap- 
parent reason she had become possessed 
with the idea that both were living, and that 
both were good people, beloved by the son, 
who perhaps shunned them that he might 
not dishonor their name. 

One day, as Kitty was looking over a few 
things of her husband’s, she came to a torn 
envelope which had evidently once been ad- 
dressed, but not stamped. 

It was directed to a small town, called 

N in G County, Connecticut, and 

addressed to Mrs. James Hazard. Now 
Kitty had heard Jim often say that he was 
named after his father, and her first thought 
was : “I know at last where his mother lives, 
and I will write to her ; ” but when she be- 
gan to meditate what she would say, it 
seemed such a long story that she did not 
know where to begin. A letter is always a 


39i 


The Prodigal Son. 

formidable undertaking to a person of little 
experience in writing. 

“And when I have written it all out,” she 
said to herself, “they will not understand 
why I have done it. They may think I 
want them to support me, or something of 
that sort. All I want is to know some one 
who knew and loved him. I have a mind to 
go to this place and see them myself. It 
can’t be but a few hours’ ride from New 
York.” 

This last idea filled Kitty’s mind night and 
day. At last she went to ask Mrs. Flem- 
ming’s advice, but did not find her home. 
That same day, Kitty was paid an unusually 
good price for a piece of sewing, and she 
resolved to start off, saying nothing to the 
woman with whom she lived, as to her 
object ; but merely explaining that she had 
friends whom she wished to consult. 

It was noon of a beautiful summer day 
when Kitty left the city, and with a heart full 


392 


' Miss Janet's Old House . 


of fear, hope and expectancy, started on her 
quest of friends. 

Her clothing had by this time become very 
shabby ; but she was invariably neat, and her 
face, always attractive, had acquired in these 
months of trouble an expression that was 
very sweet and touching. More than one of 
her fellow travellers wondered who she was, 
and where she was going — what made her 
seem so womanly and sad, while yet so 
youthful. About six o’clock Kitty reached 
the little station and learned that the village 
stretched away to the West, although, to call 
the scattered farms and pretty cottages a 
village, seemed to her queer. A man at the 
station told Kitty, that “ Uncle Jimmy Ha- 
zard,” lived in the last house on the Parker 
road, and he pointed out where this was ; a 
tiny yellow house far off toward the glowing 
sunset — a mile or more away. 

Kitty started down the road, vaguely re- 
lieved to find that no fine house had been 


393 


The Prodigal Son. 

shown her, and glad that people called her 
husband’s father “ Uncle.” The title had a 
homely, friendly sound. It was a lovely 
evening, and in spite of the load on her 
mind, Kitty could not but enjoy the balmy 
air, fragrant with sweet odors from the fresh 
fields. She passed pleasant houses, where 
children played about the open doors, and 
old people sat resting on wide piazzas. 

Excitement quickened her steps, and soon 
Kitty came near enough to see that the little 
yellow story and a-half house was sheltered 
by great elm trees ; that at one side was an 
old-fashioned well with its sweep, at the other 
a garden full of flowers, growing among the 
vegetables, while behind the house stretched 
away field beyond field. The kitchen door 
stood open, and on the stone before it lay an 
old and solemn dog, who lifted his head as 
Kitty opened the wooden gate. When she 
came near, he arose, but did not growl or 
hinder her from approaching. Standing on 


394 Miss Janets Old House. 

the stone, Kitty looked into a room, cosy as 
only the cosiest country kitchen can be. Ti e 
wooden chairs were spotless ; that part of the 
floor not covered with strip ; of home-made 
carpet was scrubbed as white as the chairs. 
Two big chintz-covered chairs stood by two 
windows, open to the sunset, a work-basket 
set on one casement, a blue pitcher of gay 
flowers on the other. Every pan, dish and 
kitchen utensil in sight was polished to the 
last degree ; but no living creature was there 
except a great sleek gray cat, purring on the 
red cushion of a lounge that filled one side 
of the room. 

Kitty felt for a certain paper in her pocket, 
and glanced at the plain gold ring on her 
little rough hand ; then as much at a loss how 
she should introduce herself, as if she had not 
planned fifty ways, she tapped on the kitchen 
door. The old dog had sniffed at her dress 
and walked around her, had licked her fin- 
gers and laid himself down again before any 


The Prodigal Son . 


395 


one came ; and then not at her summons. 
A" opposi:e door opened, and a mild faced, 
white-haired old woman in a clean calico 
gown, with a long black apron and a white 
neck handkerchief, appeared. She came into 
the middle of the room before she saw Kitty, 
who, in a voice she did not herself recognize 
or seem to own, asked for a glass of water. 

“ Certainly ; come in,” said the old lady, 
taking a glass off the neat “ dresser,” and fill- 
ing it from a pitcher close at hand. 

“ I came from the cars — and I am thirsty 
and out of breath,” faltered Kitty. 

“ I see you are, and you look real pale ; 
hadn’t you better sit down and rest a spell ?” 

Glad of any excuse to stop, Kitty sat in 
the big soft chair the old lady pulled forward, 
and said, “ I came from the city, and every- 
thing looks fresh and beautiful to me.” 

“ No doubt it does. The city is a hot, 
dreadful place in the summer. I believe, as 
somebody said, that God made the country, 


396 Miss Janet's Old House . 

and I think people get farther away from 
Him in the city that man made,” sighed 
the woman, with such a look in her eyes 
that Kitty’s own suddenly filled with tears. 
She was sure this was Jim’s mother, and that 
she was thinking of Jim. 

“Are you in trouble, child ?” asked the old 
woman, suddenly, looking full in Kitty’s face, 
and then down at her neat poor clothing. 

“ I am trying to find friends who are 
strangers,” said Kitty, and I don’t know how 
they will receive me.” 

“ If it is anybody about here, dear, that you 
are looking for, maybe I can help you. Fa- 
ther and I know everybody near, if they are 
old settlers — and not many new folks come.” 

Kitty began her own story, or as much of it 
as would let the woman know later why she 
had appeared thus unannounced. She told 
of her past; briefly of her marriage, her 
trouble, and the listener began to be so inter- 
ested, she quite forgot that Kitty was look- 


The Prodigal Son . 39 7 

ing for any friends, and did not even notice 
that she had not given her husbands name, 
until Kitty herself came to speak of her anx- 
iety to see his mother. 

“ You don’t say, child, that your husband 
was from this village, do you ?” suddenly cried 
the woman, turning pale. “What was his 
name ?” 

“Yes; and here is my marriage certifi- 
cate,” replied Kitty, quickly. “ Here is his 
name, James Hazard.” 

The old lady uttered a loud exclamation ; 
then dropping the paper in her lap, stared at 
Kitty’s face, down which the tears were run- 
ning. 

“ Do you know where you are, and who I 
am r 

“Yes — yes, you are Jim’s mother; and 
can’t you tell me where to find him ?” 

The love and grief in the cry conquered 
any distrust, if indeed the mother felt any, 
and she c. ught Kitty’s hand, embracing her 


398 Miss Janet's Old House . 

with tears, questions and ejaculations. In the 
half hour that followed Kitty learned much, 
and told all she had to tell. It was the old 
story of a prodigal son breaking his parent’s 
heart, and yet because of certain traits in him 
they had clung to him with a love which 
Kitty, at least, could understand. 

“He was a good boy and a good son, 
until the first grog-shop was set up in the 
place,” wailed the mother. “There he went 
to hear the village news, and there the devil 
caught him.” 

Some one scraped the threshold with a 
heavy boot, and looking up, Kitty saw an 
old man enter, bent and gray-haired, but with 
eyes and features so like her husband’s, that 
she could only lean back in her chair and 
sob hysterically, while his wife excitedly ex- 
plained what it all meant. 

He listened without a word ; then going to 
the light with the marriage certificate, he read 
that through slowly and carefully. Kitty, in 


The Prodigal Son. 


399 


tear at his silence, calmed herself, waiting un- 
til he turned and looked at her as carefully ; 
then, his voice trembling a good deal, he 
questioned her, going over again what he 
had been told so confusedly. Finally he said : 

“You look like a good girl, and I am 
afraid our boy has made you suffer, as he has 
made us suffer ; but if you love him, and 
mean to cling to him, maybe you can help 
him — I don’t know, though. If he can’t reform 
for the sake of his gray-haired mother — don’t 
think a young face will hold him !” 

When Kitty, bursting again into tears, 
cried : “I did not hold him — I am telling you 
that !” 

He replied: “Why there, poor child, I did 
not mean to hurt you. You are welcome; 
we will take you in, and if you are worthy 
of it, we will make you one of us.” 

Kitty hastily broke in with the assertion 
that she had always worked for herself, and 
was not asking help ; but the old lady, by 


400 


Miss Janet's Old House. 


this time more composed, took off her bon- 
net, and learning she had eaten no supper, 
bustled about to bring her a heaped-up plate 
of inviting food. 

For the first time in years, the old people 
sat up until eleven o’clock that night, and 
before Kitty went to her soft bed, in the dain- 
ty little chamber assigned her, they had giv- 
en her their entire confidence. A more world- 
ly couple, might have been more distrustful ; 
but Kitty’s beauty, and her sad story, above 
all her love for Jim, conquered them. Next 
day it was settled that Kitty should stay 
until she was “ rested ; ” for the few hours’ 
journey she had taken, seemed very fatigu- 
ing to them ; then the old people would have 
her return to the city, settle her affairs, leave 
word with her friends in regard to Jim (should 
he ever seek her), and this done, come back 
to them. Her young hands and feet could 
save the mother’s old and weary ones, while 


401 


The Prodigal Son . 

their hearts would open and take her in, as 
did their home. 

“ It seems to me, I would be in heaven if 
Jim were only here,” said Kitty, the second 
day, coming in from the garden, with her 
hands full of flowers, and bending to kiss the 
old lady. 

“ If Jim were here with a new heart, Kitty ! 
Oh how I have prayed for that boy of mine, 
that the Lord would not let him go unsaved* 
Night and day I have plead for him.” 

* * * * * * 

A few days after the events last narrated, 
Louise was just leaving home one morning 
for a walk. The door had closed behind her, 
when a man put his foot on the lowest step, 
and looking up, raised his hat respectfully, 
searching her face as he did so attentively. 
He was tall, thin, decently dressed, but 
deathly pale. The man’s features were fine 
his eyes too keen to be pleasant ; but when 
he spoke his voice was agreeable : 

26 


402 Miss Janet's Old House . 

“ Is this Mrs. Flemming ?” 

Louise replied briefly, and waited for his 
next words. Scarcely a day passed that 
some “gentleman” or “lady,” did not call 
to ask a favor, having heard of “the Ladies’ 
Christian Charity.” Sometimes it was to 
beg twenty cents, “ to get to relatives in Ho- 
boken;” sometimes a sewing-machine was 
desired, occasionally a piano, or passage mo- 
ney to California. It was therefore some- 
what of a surprise to Mrs. Flemming when 
the man said : 

“ Do you remember a young woman who 
boarded in the Home in — street a year ago ? 
Her name was Kitty Prior.” 

Louise replied that she remembered the 
person he meant. 

“ Can you tell me where she is now to be 
found?” he asked, watching her sharply. 

It flashed into her mind that this might 
be Kitty’s husband ; but she answered guard- 
edly. 


The Prodigal Son. 


403 

“ Kitty Prior married and went West last 
September.” 

“ I know it, but I have heard that she had 
returned, and I thought you might know if 
she were in New York. I am a near re- 
lative — ” 

“ Are you James Hazard ?” 

“ Yes. You have seen Kitty then ! Is she 
in New York ?” 

“•You ought to know where your own wife 
is. Did you marry her to leave her to take 
care of herself?” 

“ No, I swear to you I didn’t; and if ever a 
man tried to find a woman, I have tried to 
find her for the last few months, until six 
weeks ago ; then I was taken to the hospital 
iust alive with pneumonia, and to-day I am 
out for the first time.” 

Louise could well believe this last state- 
ment, for he trembled so, even now, with 
weakness or excitement, that he clung to the 
railing of the steps for support 


404 Miss Janet's Old House . 

“ Why did you leave her in the first place ?” 

“Have you any idea why? Has she 
guessed why ? for I see she has told you her 
story,” he exclaimed, with caution, even in his 
evident eagerness. 

“Yes, she has told me, but no one else, 
that she imagined you might have run away 
from the police.” 

“ She was right, it was that;” he returned, 
entirely unembarrassed by the confession. 
“ I did run away. I was in a tight place, 
where a minute’s delay would have lost me 
my chance of escape, and I knew poor Kitty 
would make a scene. I expected to get 
word to her, or to join her in a day or two ; 
but — I could not do it. It is not best to tell 
why ; but when I explain to Kitty, she will 
believe me. When I was free — that is, when 
I could look her up, she had disappeared. I 
came to New York, hoping she too had turn- 
ed this way. I got the pneumonia before I 
could find a trace of her. Now Mrs. Flemming, 


The Prodigal Son. 


405 


did Kitty say I was ever anything but good 
to her ? I loved her, and she had reason to 
know I would not desert her.” 

“ Yes, I know where Kitty is, and she does 
love you ; but I am afraid she deserves a bet- 
ter husband.” 

“ You never said a truer word than that ; 
but if I have a decent thing about me, I of- 
ten think it is the feeling I have for that poor 
girl. I am going to try to go it on the 
straight, after this.” 

“ Why didn’t you tell Kitty where your 
mother or your family relatives lived ? Then, 
when she was left friendless, in a strange 
city, she would not have been as likely to 
starve,” said Louise, who could not refrain 
from a little severity toward this man, who 
evaded her question by asking with anxiety 
not assumed : 

“ Has Kitty suffered ?” 

“ She has suffered, terribly. She confess- 


406 Miss Janet's Oid House. 

ed to me, that she once thought of drown- 
ing herself.” 

“Tell me where she is?” he broke out, 
with such energy that Louise, relented, and 
answered: “She is sewing for her daily 
bread, and boards at No. 8 — Ninth Avenue.” 

With hurried thanks Jim Hazard turned, 
and as Louise saw him taking rapid strides 
toward the west, she experienced conflict- 
ing sentiments; real pleasure in thinking of 
Kitty’s joy, deep disapproval of the man’s 
past conduct, and a kinder feeling toward 
him in view of his love for his wife, than she 
otherwise could have allowed herself. 

Several times during the day she wondered 
how Kitty had received him, and what their 
future would be. 

What was her surprise, about four o’clock, 
to have Jim Hazard call again at the house 
and ask to see her. As soon as she appeared, 
he exclaimed : 

“ I cannot find her. She went from that 


The Prodigal Son. 


407 


place three days ago, saying she had business 
out of the city ; but that she would be back 
soon. She left a few things — all she had, 
and said she should probably be back the 
next day ; but she did not tell the woman 
where she was going.” 

“ Where do your people live ?” asked 
Louise, simply. 

For the first time the color mounted to the 
man’s colorless cheeks. 

“ They live near to the city, but they are 
respectable, quiet, old people. I never 
have told any one where they are ; so my 
doings cannot be reported. I’ve been a hard 
case, as you know, or must suppose ; but my 
folks are decent. I always meant to take 
Kitty to them ; but I had reasons for not tell- 
ing her where they were before this. I 
wanted no police dogging them, and trying to 
get out of them what they never knew.” 

“ Well, Kitty has long been trying to find 
them, if she could not find you. She told 


408 Miss Janet's Old HoUse . 

me that, and by my advice, she tells no one 
else of her affairs. Perhaps she has gone to 
your people.” 

“ I don’t believe it. She had no clew 
to them.” 

Louise at that moment noticing how feeble 
he looked, offered him some refreshment. 
He declined it ; but she insisted, and he ad- 
mitted that he felt scarcely able to stand. 
While Dolly prepared him a cup of coffee, he 
told Mrs. Flemming that he had money 
enough to take him home, and there he 
meant to go. He begged her to keep 
watch for Kitty, and if any news of her could 
be sent, to let him know. 

“ Perhaps Kitty herself will be with my 
mother ; but I don’t think that is probable. 
If she comes, tell her to come right to me, for 
I am too weak to get back to this city, under 
a week, or more.” Then hesitating, he gave 
Mrs. Flemming the address of his father, in 
the small village of Connecticut 


The Prodigal Son. 409 

“I think you had better not leave the city 
until morning,” she said ; “ then you can 
sleep here to-night and start early.” 

“You are very kind. After I left the 
hospital to-day, I had a slight attack of 
bleeding. I don’t hardly think it was from 
the lungs, but it weakened me fearfully. Still 
I have money to get lodgings, and why 
should you give shelter to a rogue ?” he re- 
turned, giving a peculiar glance about the 
room. “ Are you not afraid of me ?” 

“ I am afraid for you, if you are a rogue ; 
but you would be the meanest one I ever 
met if you turned the kindness I have given 
your wife, and the help I would give you, into 
an occasion to do me or mine harm.” 

“ 1 am not mean enough for it now,” he 
replied, meekly. 

Louise saw him refreshed by food, and then 
when he thanked her for her offer of a night’s 
shelter, yet declared he would not accept it, 
but would get half way home that night, 


410 Miss Janet's Old House . 

she thought it a good chance to talk to 
him. She assumed what she supposed 
true, that he was a bad man, and she rea- 
soned with him on the folly of sin, on the 
long-suffering of God, on the law of God — on 
the love of Christ. 

He heard her quietly. Once he seemed 
moved, and before he went away he told her 
briefly more of himself than he had ever told 
poor Kitty. He confessed he had been the 
only son of Christian parents, and in his youth 
had attended church and Sunday-school. 
When a mere lad he had fallen in with a set 
of older boys who took him to saloons, taught 
him to play games of chance for small win- 
nings, and gave him cheap novels to read. 
He was in a few years far more advanced 
than his teachers in all small vices. He was 
a marvellously quick fellow in every way ; a 
mimic, could change voice and expression at 
will. When the little town became too nar- 
row for him, he ran away. Ten years in 


The Prodigal Son. 41 1 

New York made him what he was; a gam- 
bler and a thief. To this last character he 
did not lay claim, but Louise understood 
some of his remarks in the light of Kitty’s 
previous revelations. 


412 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER XXII. 


WHEN “AFAR OFF.” 


NE morning, a few days after Kitty had 



sought and found friends in the little 
yellow farm-house, James Hazard turned his 
face that same way. Very few and far be- 
tween had been his visits to his fathers house 
in the years since he had gone astray. The 
comrades with whom he used to play in the 
little corner school-house would hardly have 
known him had he greeted them that morn- 
ing, as he strolled along the “ Parker road 
but to guard against recognition, Jim turned 
his head when a team passed him. He was 
well dressed ; he had a little money in his 
pocket ; he had means of getting more ; but as 
he looked across the fields and saw the farm- 


When “ Afar off” 413 

ers there at work, he thought how evenly, 
how honestly their lives had probably gone 
on, leaving clean, happy memories — promis- 
ing a calm old age of honor and content- 
ment. All that had seemed so intensely stu- 
pid to him once, but somehow, under this blue 
sky, with the songs of birds in his ear, with 
the home of his childhood in sight, a dim light 
seemed to dawn on his spiritual darkness. It 
was a light that did not cheer, but what was 
better, it showed him faintly to himself and re- 
vealed the evil behind him. Weary as never 
before after so little physical exertion, he sat 
for a while under a hedge, to recover breath. 
A splendid constitution, inherited from a line 
of moral and healthy ancestors, had enabled 
James Hazard to do and to endure almost 
anything ; but now he felt that a child could 
overthrow him. The warm air made him 
drowsy, and half waking, half dreaming, he 
recalled the old times. He was a little boy, 
going to church with his mother, and old par- 


414 Miss Janet's Old House . 

son Miller, at rest these twenty years in the 
quiet graveyard, was quoting Ecclesiastes : 
“ Because sentence against an evil work is 
not executed speedily, therefore the heart of 
the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil. 
Though a sinner do evil a hundred times, and 
his days be prolonged, yet surely 1 know 
that it shall be well with them that fear God, 
which fear before him. But it shall not be 
well with the wicked, neither shall he pro- 
long his days, which are as a shadow, be- 
cause he feareth not God.” — Yes, the minis- 
ter was saying that, and little Jim Hazard 
was listening, with the fancy that his heart 
was young and pure, that all life was before 
him, long and full of hope and promise. — Now 
he was there in the old church, which was full of 
shadowy people whom he had known as good 
when living, but who died years ago. — These 
stood gazing at him in horror ; and the old 
minister was telling of all the wicked deeds 
of the man Jim Hazard. Darkness seemed 


4i5 


Whsn “Afar off.” 

sifting* down over them all, and his mother 
and father cowered down in grief and shame. 

A cart rattled past on the road, and Jim 
awoke, oppressed for breath. A long cough- 
ing fit attacked him, and again he raised a 
little blood, which so weakened him that the 
effort to walk on cost him great difficulty. 
The little house .was in sight, however, and he 
toiled along toward the open gate. There he 
waited, leaning on it to watch a moment for 
some sign that his mother and his father still 
lived. In a distant field he saw a man at 
work, old and bent, and he recognized his fa- 
ther; then through an open window he saw 
a woman’s head, whereon the hair was white 
as snow. For the first time in years Jim 
Hazard’s eyes overflowed with tears. 

At that moment Kitty crossed the kitchen, 
came to the door, and standing there, framed 
in it, she looked off over the fields to the dis- 
tant woods, while her husband stared at her, 
unable to believe that he actually saw her. 


4 1 6 Miss Janet's 0 Old Hotise. 

When she saw him, he was still standing 
there, half fainting, with his hand stretched 
toward her. The loud cry she gave brought 
his mother, hastening after Kitty, who was 
even then at the gate, wild with joy at sight 
of the new comer, and the moment after 
equally frightened at his weakness and.pallor. 

The excited women supported him into the 
house, where he dropped on the kitchen 
lounge, and asked and answered questions. 

To childish, impulsive Kitty, that was a day 
of almost unalloyed happiness. Her husband 
was in his own home ; he loved her, had de- 
clared that he never meant to desert her ; his 
parents had welcomed her as a daughter ; 
best of all, Jim was very sorry for all the 
grief he had caused them, and now lie would, 
beyond a doubt, do right henceforward. So 
argued pretty Kitty, while there seemed a 
song in her heart as sweet as the bird’s carol 
outside the window that summer day. 

In the parents’ thoughts bitter reflections 


417 


When “ Afar off” 

mingled with the joy felt over his return. 
They saw, as the old see, aver a wider outlook. 
At full manhood their boy was an outcast. 
There was no reason why men should re- 
spect him. Was there any hope that he would 
come where God could forgive him ? The 
old fathers heart was as tender as the moth- 
er’s toward their only child, yet that night, 
when they talked of him before they slept, 
as they had done sadly for fifteen years 
and more — the father made no reply when 
she asked if he did not think Jim’s health 
was all gone. To himself he said : “ If I 
knew he had repented of his sins, and God 
had saved his soul, I should feel a great load 
off my heart were Jim in his grave.” 

In the weeks that followed, Kitty learned 
very little about the details of her husband’s 
flight and subsequent experiences. He had 
been arrested, held for trial, and escaped for 
lack of evidence against him — escaped the 
punishment of a crime he had very likely com- 


41 8 Miss Janet's Old House. 

mitted. He naturally enough avoided such 
topics of conversation, and Kitty did not force 
his confidence. Indeed she did not have much 
thought of anything beyond the present and 
his health. In a short time it became evident 
that he was a doomed man ; frequent hemor- 
rhages from the lungs reduced him rapidly, 
and he himself reeilized his physical condition. 

From the first, his aged mother had talked 
and prayed and read her Bible to him, exactly 
as she had done, when he — the thief, drink- 
er and gambler, had been her obedient child. 
He heard her without a protest; being his 
mother, he knew that she could not do other- 
wise. One day, toward the latter part of 
the summer, he had Kitty write a note to 
Mr. Flemming, asking him to come out for a 
private interview with him. A strange inter- 
view it was, and one Mr. Flemming long re- 
membered. Jim told him that he had sent 
for him to make him his confessor; that in a 
very few cases, where it might be possible 


When “ Afar off'" 419 

to make some restitution, Mr. Flemming 
could give the defrauded persons the benefit 
of Jim’s revelation. The greater part of the 
evil he . had wrought must stand. Nothing 
he could now do or tell, would undo it. For 
instance, he had been the prime mover in the 
burglary of Miss Janets house. But the 
goods then stolen had long since been melt- 
ed, pawned, scattered to the four winds. 

“ I tell you enough for you or these others 
to send me straight to the penitentiary,” he 
commented with perfect indifference. “ But 
it is hardly worth any trouble to stir in the 
matter. The State would scarcely get me 
there, before there would be the bother of 
burying me, and my own people can do 
that.” 

The only feeling he showed, was in saying 
to Mr. Flemming, that he might tell to his 
father or mother, Jater, just as much of his 
confession as it was necessary they should 
know; but he would gladly save them from 


420 Miss Janet's Old House. 

more shame than they had suffered in the 
past. 

When Mr. Flemming, “reasoned of right- 
ousness and judgment to come,” Jim listened 
respectfully and thanked him, sending a mes- 
sage to Miss Page and another to Mrs. Flem- 
ming. Of the wrong he had done toward 
others — all that wherein he had failed toward 
his parents, Jim seemed fully conscious, and 
in the latter case, at least, deeply penitent; 
but of his attitude toward God, whose divine 
laws he had broken, whose love he had slight- 
ed, whose mercy despised, Jim said nothing 
for many days and weeks. 

One quiet Sunday afternoon, however, 
when the family were sitting together in the 
door way, he said to his mother : 

“ What seems to you best in your Bible, 
mother ? ” 

“Christ’s promises and Christs parables.” 

“But the parables are not told for facts, 
are they ?” 


When “ Afar off. 


42 1 

“ They are- pictures of the truth, and just 
like the truth. When you were a little fel- 
low, Jim,” continued the old lady, “ you used 
to like that daguerreotype of me in the sit- 
ting-room, and when I was away once visit- 
ing, your father said you trotted around with 
it all day, calling it me. Now there is a 
verse and a parable in the Bible that seem to 
me like a picture of the God whom I love 
and worship. The verse is ‘ Like as a fa- 
ther pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth 
them that fear him and this is the parable.” 

Her Bible laid open on her lap. T urning its 
leaves, she read in her tremulous voice, that 
story that will never cease to touch the hard- 
est hearts until the last prodigal son shall 
have ceased to sin, and have come to himself. 
When she ended, and taking off her glasses, ^ 
wiped her dim eyes, Jim, clearing his throat, 
said : 

“ I have been a prodigal, God knows ; and 
I have spent half my life among swine. I 


42 2 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


am ashamed now to come whining back with 
the very dregs of my life, and ask for His 
mercy. Even this one you read of, had a 
chance before him to prove he was not a 
hypocrite, only repenting because he had 
no life left. He could work on in the future. 
Look at me, here — done up for this world — 
no chance to help father in his old age, no 
hope of being a comfort to you after all these 
years of misery, that I have caused you. 
Not a day’s work in me for Kitty’s support. 
Never a hope of undoing what I have done 
to injure others out in the world. Do you 
think it is for me, now, to come asking God 
to forgive me ?” 

“Oh, my boy ! Jim! Jim !” cried his mo- 
ther. “ Don’t you suppose God is more 
ready to have ‘compassion,’ on you, than 
your own father ? I tell you, he sees you a 
long way off, and if you are sorry and 
ashamed, just tell Him so !” 


When * ‘ Afar off? 423 

“ You don’t begin to know how bad I have 
been, mother !” 

“ You don’t begin to know, my son, how 
merciful God is !” 

“ Then pray for me, and I will just say, 
4 Lord be merciful to me the meanest sinner 
that ever cartie crawling back without power 
to sin any longer.’ But if I could have my 
life back again, God helping me,” he ex- 
claimed, half rising in his energy, “I would 
not be the blind fool I have been ! Oh Kitty, 
let my mother teach you how to live! You 
are young — stay with her and father as long 
as either lives.” 

“ Kitty has promised to be my child,” said 
the old lady, smoothing the soft hair on Kitty’s 
head — Kitty who was sobbing so she could 
not speak. A little later he pointed his 
thin finger toward the town, saying: 

‘ There is the old church, where Parson 
Miller used to say the 4 wicked should not 
live out half his days.’ It was true. There is 


\2\ Miss Janet's Old House . 

Hewlet’s saloon, where I learned to drink, and 
took lessons in gambling, swearing, and 
things. you never dreamed. You were not 
to blame. Until Hewlet began to sell liquor 
in that place, the boys about here were as 
good as gold. Over in that west lot, I used 
to hide with-: a few of them, behind a shed, 
and play cards, when you supposed I was in 
the corner school-house. Yes sir, if you want 
to have a station on the straight road to per- 
dition, in any little country place, just 
start a grocery, selling liquor, and travel will 
begin.” 

******* 

The summer ended. One lovely day, 
when the first autumn leaves were dropping 
softly through the golden air, a funeral pro- 
cession passed from the old yellow farm 
house to the shaded grave yard. James 
Hazard, the prodigal son, was laid under the 
sod, before his gray-haired father and his 
gentle old mother had passed from earth to 


When “Afar off^ 


425 


heaven. But in the hearts of both parents 
was a peace that rose above their grief, lift- 
ing them out of it into a region of faith and 
satisfying trust. Never again should they 
sit by a dreary hearth, thinking that some- 
where, their only boy was defying God’s laws, 
and laying up wrath against a day of wrath. 
If he had sinned, he had repented. After 
years of weeping and prayer, God had given 
that mother the blessed hope of meeting her 
boy in heaven. What wonder then that 
she could not feel the passionate grief of 
Kitty ; yet wild so well could be Kitty’s com- 
forter now, her guide and her mother. 


426 


Miss Janet's Old House . 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE END. 

"XXT E began our story, with Miss Janet’s 
old house. We must end it with the 
statement, that all things have become new. 
In fact it is with her house as with her own 
character ; much of the old material is in 
each ; but many are the changes for the bet- 
ter, wonderful the added worth and grace. 

After Miss Page’s talk with Mr. Flemming, 
in regard to her plans for the future, and her 
ideas about the management of affairs after 
her death, she said nothing more to him un- 
til he himself returned to the subject. After 
long thought, and a struggle, which even Miss 
Janet could not appreciate, he resolved to 
give himself to mission work among the poor, 


Ths End. <27 

the ignorant and the degraded, particularly to 
temperance work. 

Meanwhile, there arose on the site of the 
dance-hall, a building whose every stone 
was laid \\dth faith, and prayer. When it 
was complete, so that every branch of he 
work could be carried on with greater ease, 
the results of the prst year’s labor became 
apparent. Men and women, rescued from 
vice, came forward to be in their turn work- 
< rs. Needy women, 1 lessing Miss Page as 
their benefactor, having found work and 
homes, sent her back thank-offerings, and 
told others where they might go when no 
one cared for their souls or bodies. 

Years came, and years went. Contrary to 
her impressions, Miss Janet’s life was spared, 
until her work had grown far beyond her 
own knowledge, and she herself had become 
like one of old: “grounded in true humility, 
and full of divine charity,” so that she seemed 
“ always purely and sincerely seeking God’s 


428 . Miss Janet's Old House . 

honor and she believed to the end that: 
“ Whatsoever is done out of charity* be it 
never so little and contemptible in the sight 
of the world, it will be wholly fruitful. For 
God weigheth more with how much love a 
man worketh, than how much he doeth. He 
worketh much that loveth much.” 


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